Where Angels Dwell
by Baron Munchausen
Summary: Anthony has to fight to save Edith from a terrible fate...At present this is AU but set after the 2012 Christmas Special.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: My other OTP is Lord Peter Wimsey and Harriet Vane. I am happy to acknowledge that the premise for this story, which is set after the 2012 Christmas Special, is **_**Strong Poison**_** by Dorothy L. Sayers, although my plot isn't the same. Yes, JF has also done this storyline in DA canon with Bates and Anna, but he repeats himself too, doesn't he?**_

* * *

_._

_To look upon the universe as a prison cell and all men as criminals about to be executed is the idea of a fanatic. _

—Voltaire, Letters on the English Nation 1734

* * *

.

_That's a blackbird, and he's singing his spring song _Anthony thought, just as he woke before he'd even opened his eyes. _How nice to hear that in the dark winter days._

He turned onto his side and looked at the empty place in the bed beside him, as empty as his heart. The world had stopped turning for him one day the previous summer, when he walked out of the doors of Downton Church. He'd hastened back to Locksley and not left the estate since — over a year ago. He had not really noticed the height of that still, lazy summer, nor the summer after that. When he'd next looked, _really_ looked instead of staring out of the library windows with unseeing eyes, another drear, damp autumn was being conquered by another sharp, unforgiving winter. The seasons had continued unfurling while he turned ever more in on himself.

His days wore a weary, unchanging familiarity now. The one thing he had insisted on was that the estate should continue to be well run. He had forced himself to redouble his attention to its infrastructure and to his tenants. They must not be allowed to suffer for his sins. Once he'd spent the morning on business, he read a little in the afternoons, but not as much as he once had, finding he now lacked the concentration especially sitting in that library, haunted by her ghost smiling trustingly at him. He walked once around the grounds each day; his butler, Oakley, had been quietly adamant about that early on, and obeying his advice was the least Anthony could do to repay Oakley's care and loyalty.

But that autumn morning Oakley shattered Anthony's fragile peace. He had expected one day to hear news of Edith's engagement or marriage, and he did not care to consider how he would bear hearing about it. But he had never expected this.

"Oh that's just ridiculous; I don't believe it for a moment. I really think you must be mistaken, Oakley."

"I hope I am, Sir, but I fear I am not. The milkman was quite certain. He said he'd read it in _The Sketch_ this morning."

Anthony thought for a moment, and then asked Oakley to get his friend Hugh Gervas on the telephone and then get hold of a copy of that newspaper.

"Morning, Hugh. Listen, I…"

"Anthony! I was just about to telephone you. You've heard then? Isn't it awful? How are you bearing up?"

Anthony was taken aback for a moment. "It can't be true? You can't be telling me this is _actually true_?! Hugh, I was ringing you to confirm that it wasn't."

"I'm afraid it is. Edith Crawley was arrested yesterday evening on suspicion of murdering her lover, one Michael Gregson, the editor of _The Sketch_. According to my friend, Perry Chaunter, the one at Scotland Yard you know, she was found red handed at his flat: holding the dagger covered in blood standing over the man. She's being held in Holloway. Anthony? Anthony?!"

But Anthony had dropped the receiver. He was standing motionless, deathly pale, vainly fighting the panic that was gripping his guts more fiercely with each passing second.

"No, please God, no!"

* * *

_._

Edith watched the damp trickle down the walls of her cell. Life was as cold and as pointless. _Her life_ anyway. There was the occasional scream from women held in the cells around her, but she herself hadn't uttered a word to anyone for…well, however long she'd been here and she couldn't tell how long that was anymore. She hadn't eaten any of her meals so she couldn't judge the time that way. The shapeless prison uniform almost strangled her like a straight-jacket. She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept. _Did it feel like this to lose one's mind?_, she wondered numbly.

She did remember what Michael's blood had felt like, what it had smelt like. That whole evening had been ghoulish. But before that she remembered what it felt like to be his mistress. To begin with it was…comforting, yes, that was the word. It was a relief to find that she could be attractive to a man, _any man_, but it all became so hollow, so shallow, so very quickly. Once again she longed for blue eyes rather than brown; for awkward, shy, gentle goodness rather than calculating, possessive confidence.

She was so completely and utterly sure she would never see those blue eyes again, not in this life anyway, that everything else and all other facts in her existence left her without any sensation whatsoever. She could feel nothing, try as she might, concerning her family who would be despairing of her and of the shame she had brought and was still bringing on them and the House of Grantham. She didn't dread them arriving and haranguing her. She didn't fear them shunning her or ignoring her. She felt nothing about the fact that she would be tried for her life without the smallest flicker of hope that she might avoid the hangman's noose. Nothing mattered at all except for this one fact: that Anthony Strallan had walked away from her once long ago in Downton Church, taking all light and warmth and joy and love with him, leaving her dead inside. She had been living a lifeless life ever since. She would never live another happy moment without him…and it was impossible that he would want to see her, or that she would ever again see his crooked smile, no matter how desperately much she wished she could. Compared to that, a mere execution was nothing; nothing at all.


	2. Chapter 2: An Unexpected Ally

**_Thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed, and favourited this. Anthony may have to work on his own for a week as I have to go away on business, but he will be back!_**

* * *

_._

In the last of that day's dusk, Sir Anthony Strallan was on a train to London. Hugh had been a brick really. He'd listened to Anthony's incoherent fears with patience, only interrupting to insist he get Oakley to give Anthony a brandy for his nerves' sake. Then while Anthony and Oakley packed, Hugh had been in touch again with his friend at Scotland Yard, Detective Inspector Peregrine Chaunter. Anthony was to meet him at the Yard tomorrow morning first thing. There was little Anthony could do between then and now other than worry.

Of course he was sure that Edith was not capable of stabbing a man to death, but his steadfast opinion alone wasn't going to prove it in the eyes of the Law. What had really shaken him was the report that she had taken a lover. He'd got a small inkling that she felt underappreciated at Downton, although Edith had never really talked about that to him. He'd known that he'd hurt her, but had she really been so desperate after he jilted her? If so, this turn of events was _his_ fault. _He_ was responsible for the fact that Edith was being held in some god-awful prison, and, if he knew her at all, was most likely despairing of herself but putting a brave face on it in her bold, determined way. He couldn't bear to think of it. But for the rest of the journey, he could think of nothing else.

* * *

.

Nine o'clock was striking when Sir Anthony presented himself to the front desk Duty Sergeant at Scotland Yard asking for DI Chaunter. It wasn't long before the man came to the front desk himself to meet Sir Anthony but he looked quite discomfited that he had to talk to this aristocrat for the sake of a friend when he really should be doing his job.

"Sir Anthony Strallan, Colonel Gervas has told me about you and your interest in the Gregson case."

"I'm grateful to you for seeing me, Inspector. Is there somewhere we can talk more privately, perhaps?"

Annoyance crossed Chaunter's face. He'd rather hoped a private conversation wouldn't be necessary, but there seemed to be no avoiding it. This tall man had a quiet way of _insisting_.

.

Back in Chaunter's office, Anthony asked him how he knew Hugh Gervas.

"Served together at Ypres" was Chaunter's simple answer.

"Really? I was there myself for a bit."

"Oh my God!" Chaunter suddenly exclaimed. "You're _Major_ Strallan?"

"Well…I'm sure there were others" answered Anthony hesitantly at Chaunter's complete about face in his attitude towards him.

"Do you remember a lad called Murchison? In the Royal Army Service Corps? Got himself stranded in No Man's Land with his leg hanging off, April 1915? You carried him back to the lines."

"Good grief, yes! Did he make it?"

"Yes, he did! They had to take his leg off, you know, but he's quite fond of the wooden one now. Makes jokes about it."

"How do you know him, may I ask?"

Chaunter's smile couldn't have been broader. "He's my son-in-law."

"Oh! Oh, that's marvellous. Very glad, yes...very glad" stuttered Anthony. "Er…was he your son-in-law before the War?"

"No, but he was my Gladys's sweetheart. They married in 1919."

"Sorry to ask but…you didn't mind he was wounded?"

"Why ever would I mind? He's a good man. I'm grateful to you for saving his life. He's a Duty Clerk here as a matter of fact, and a damned good one too" Chaunter added with obvious pride.

The difference between this man's honest acceptance of the War's consequences, and Lord Grantham and his family's attitude to Anthony's own injury struck him with bitterness. He liked Chaunter; he seemed honest and unprejudiced, but this link between them might make it look like Anthony was calling in favours.

"Look, Inspector, I want to ask you for some help with this Gregson case. I know that what I ask may be…well, not entirely the done thing. But I don't want you to think…or feel…that you owe me anything…because of Ypres. Don't let it influence your decision."

Chaunter looked at him guardedly. "What is it you want?"

"I want to be sworn in as a temporary assistant or something, but detailed to you so that I can read all the relevant files, interview witnesses including Lady Edith, that sort of thing. I have to get to the bottom of this, because, you see, Lady Edith…" Words failed him.

"I know. Hugh told me. She's special to you."

"And I know she couldn't do a thing like this, not even _in extremis_."

Chaunter examined Anthony's eyes.

"And if I refuse?"

"I will thank you for your time, then go to Lady Edith's solicitors and make the same request to work with them. And, to anticipate your next question, if they refuse me I will work on my own as best I can, bothering everyone equally."

"You'll have your work cut out: she hasn't got any solicitors yet. I wouldn't usually countenance something like this, but I suspect you really know what you're suggesting. If I swear you into the Force, make you a Special or something, and you discover evidence which points to Lady Edith actually being guilty…"

"Then it would be my duty to inform you, and I shall do so, without hesitation. She'd expect nothing less of me, and neither would I."

"_Noblesse oblige_" muttered Chaunter.

"Something like that, yes. But I won't be put in that position, because she isn't guilty."

"Well, I won't lie to you, Sir Strallan…"

"The title is 'Sir Anthony', just so you know. But I don't really mind."

"I won't lie to you _Sir Anthony_, I am under considerable pressure from my Chief Constable to get this case sorted as quickly as possible. No matter what really happened, it involves a newspaper editor, the daughter of an Earl, and a love affair. That makes it really good news for the media, and really bad news for the Force. I need all the help I can get, and Colonel Gervas says you were in Intelligence so you won't be a waste of space. And everything I've heard from you so far makes me believe you're a good sort of chap. I accept your proposal, but on two conditions: first, from now on, you are Anthony Strallan, plain and simple. We've got enough aristos mucking the place up in this case as it is. And second, you only answer to me, agreed?"

"Agreed" Anthony replied immediately and directly, offering his hand.

"Good" said Chaunter, shaking it briefly. "While I find out the correct procedure for swearing you in, you can begin by reading the report of the first officer at the scene and telling me what you think."

"Certainly."

"Certainly, _Sir_" Chaunter said, pointedly.

It took Anthony only a fraction of a second to realise he wasn't addressing him.

"Certainly, Sir" Anthony said with humility.


	3. Chapter 3: Darkness

_**A/N: Thank you so much for your kind reviews and your patience while RL intervened. Anthony gets down to real detecting now...**_

* * *

_._

Cora came into the library quietly and put her hand on her husband's shoulder, squeezing it gently, needing his comfort as much as she wanted to give comfort to him. The understated support she offered was not lost on Robert.

"Have you spoken to Sir John?"

"Yes. He'll take on Edith's defence, but…"

"But what, Robert? He's the best defence lawyer in London, in England, and a KC to boot."

"But he says…" Robert's voice broke, despite his control. "…we must not hold out too much hope. At present it looks hopeless."

"It can't be hopeless, Robert, unless she actually did it, and we know she didn't."

"Yes, my darling."

He felt for her hand and then all of a sudden hugged her, searching for a reassurance that neither could give the other.

* * *

_._

Chaunter began "Let's see how good you are: explain all those facts to me. Tell me how that can all be true and yet Lady Edith is innocent" he said pointing at the reports in front of them.

Anthony was ashen-faced when he answered.

"I agree that it doesn't reflect well on Lady Edith – at first sight."

"That's a mild understatement. How would you go about challenging the obvious conclusion?"

Anthony paused. The officer's report was damning.

.

REPORT BY SGT. DICKINSON

An anonymous telephone call was received by Islington Police Station at 7:51pm reporting a loud and violent argument coming from Flat 2, Highbury Court, Islington on Monday 14th November 1921. I attended the scene at 8:02pm and found the front door wide open. On entering the flat I discovered a woman, Lady Edith Crawley, kneeling by the side of a body of a man, later identified as that of Mr Michael Gregson, Editor of _The Sketch_ newspaper, owner of the said flat. Lady Edith was checking the body for signs of life. She looked up at me and said "Oh thank heavens – I think he's dead. I found this." She held up a dagger covered in blood. Her skirt was also bloodstained. I felt for a pulse but found none. I confirmed to Lady Edith that Mr Gregson was dead. She gasped and said "Oh no! I'm so sorry Michael." She was very distressed. I asked her to step away from the body and to sit on a nearby chair, which she did. I examined the rest of the flat on the pretext of fetching Lady Edith a glass of water. There were no other signs of a disturbance. I then arrested Lady Edith on suspicion of the murder of Mr Gregson and called for assistance.

.

The second report Anthony had read was from the Police Pathologist, Dr Fitzallen. He confirmed that Gregson had died between seven and eight o'clock from a cut to the throat. Death was immediate.

Eventually, Anthony said "I would like to know from Lady Edith's side of the story – why she was there, how the meeting was arranged, how she found the flat when she got there, whether she had a key or found the door open herself."

Chaunter replied "Good. I agree with all of that. What else?"

"We need to find out if Gregson had any other meetings arranged that evening, for work or pleasure I mean. And had he met with anyone else that day, that sort of thing. I assume he must have had a Secretary?"

"Yes, I believe he did. That's all sound plod-work. Well done. Now…"

"I haven't finished, Sir" Anthony interrupted, gently. "There's also the telephone call reporting the noise from the flat. I'd like to talk to the operator at the police station. Plus there's the telephone company. Oh, and the Pathologist; his report is unclear in a couple of details."

"Good grief! Why is all that necessary?"

"The police telephone operator to find out exactly what the person asked for, whether they were distressed, were a man or woman, exactly what time they called, and most importantly, where they called from or at least the number – we may need to contact the exchange operator for that. The telephone company can tell us where all the public telephones are, and how many telephones were installed in Highbury Court if we need that information. Any of those details could be a vital lead."

Chaunter gave a low whistle. "Well if that's an example of Military Intelligence gathering, all I can say is – no wonder we won the War!"

Anthony looked at Chaunter seriously. "Thank you, but it was a close run thing, I can tell you, Sir."

Chaunter returned to the present. "It's just you, me, and Dicky on this case."

"That would be Sergeant Dickinson?"

"Yes. I'll get him to check the telephone company stuff and I'll start with Gregson's Secretary. You visit Lady Edith. You know her. You don't have to go through the formality of an interview room as you are now a police officer. Just see her in her cell." Anthony winced at the words. "But try to limit the time you're there to a quarter of an hour if possible."

"I understand, Sir. But I fear she won't want to see me for long anyway."

* * *

.

"When did you last see Mr Gregson?" asked Inspector Chaunter of Gregson's Secretary, Miss Joan Price.

"He left the office at half past five on the day he died. He had been due to meet with Mr Alan Benslow MP, but Mr Benslow had to stay in the House of Commons for a vote and called the meeting off earlier in the afternoon. So Mr Gregson told me he was going to have a drink at his club, and then go home. He also told me to call Lady Edith Crawley to ask her to meet him at his flat at eight o'clock. I believe they were going out to dinner to discuss her latest piece." She sniffed a little. "Sorry. It's all been rather a shock…to all of us. Mr Gregson was very nice, we all liked him."

"I'm sorry I have to ask you all these questions, Miss Price. How was Mr Gregson when he left? Was he nervous at all? Had he been upset during the day?"

"No. He had had trouble with Lady Edith before but he knew how to deal with her."

"What kind of trouble?"

"She's highly strung, if you know what I mean, like many of these titled people. She really wanted to monopolise him. I think she was rather in love with him."

"And he didn't return her affection?"

"Good heavens, no. Certainly not. He was married."

* * *

.

Anthony felt his chest getting tighter as he was led through drear corridors and clanging doors of HMP Holloway. He was more nervous than at any time since he'd last seen Edith. He couldn't guess how she would react to meeting with him after all this time, and in these circumstances. He wasn't even entirely sure how he would react to seeing her. His mind was blinded by the single thought that his Edith was incarcerated behind steel and stone, and it was up to him to free her before the unthinkable could happen.

He turned to the Warder. "Might I ask you to tell her my name before I go in? She may be shocked to see me."

The Warder gave him a contemptuous look.

"What do you think I am? A bloody footman?!" With that he opened the door and indicated with his head that Anthony should get a move on.

Anthony stepped into the cell and the door was crashed shut behind him. It was dark, damp, and stale. Edith was sat on the putrid bed expecting a Warder. Her eyes were focussed on the floor, her shoulders hunched. When she saw the well-made shoes and trousers she looked up and gasped to see Anthony. He'd drifted in and out of her dreams so often she didn't quite believe it was him. Not until he spoke. His soft voice like velvet and gentle concern soothing her, smothered her in unexpected comfort.

"Lady Edith, if you are at all uncomfortable with me visiting you, please say so and I will leave. Forgive me for turning up like this. I will understand if you would prefer not to see me, but first let me explain why I'm here. I heard of your misfortune through Hugh Gervas; remember him? Lives in York? We had dinner there once, after a concert a long time ago. He put me in touch with Detective Inspector Chaunter of Scotland Yard, who is an old friend of his. Inspector Chaunter is in charge of your case. I offered my services to him and because I was in military intelligence during the War, he had kindly accepted my help." He watched her while he spoke. She was thinner than she had been eighteen months ago, and more tired. But that wasn't the worst. She had a look in her eyes that he'd seen in the eyes of many men on the Western Front: of desolation and a loss of hope. She'd played the game of life…and lost. To see this in her broke his heart.

"I want to help any way I can Lady Edith. It's the least I can do. We need to ask you a few questions, but if you would prefer someone else, Inspector Chaunter for instance, to ask them instead of me, then I will leave and…"

"No. No. I'm glad you came. It's nice to see a familiar face." She wanted to say _It's so lovely to see you_ but she couldn't. She was overcome, not with the disdain that Anthony was fearing, but with embarrassment. She hadn't been able to do her hair or have a bath since her arrest. She knew she looked a mess and felt wretched. But _he_ was here. Her darling Anthony had come to her, here in this dreadful place. It was overwhelming.

"Then, may I stay and ask you about a few things?" Anthony ventured.

"Of course. I would offer you a seat, Sir Anthony, but I fear the bed is all I have, and it's not of the best."

Anthony sat at the other end of the bed anyway. It was hard and lumpy. He noticed that Edith avoided his eyes.

"Lady Edith, what I need to ask you about is how you found Mr Gregson. Are you up to that?"

"Oh yes" she answered quite matter of factly, with some of her old courage.

"Please, could you tell me exactly what happened after you arrived at his building? Begin with what time it was when you got there."

"It was eight o'clock exactly when I arrived at Highbury Court."

Anthony started. "You can be quite sure of that?"

"Yes; the Town Hall clock round the corner was striking as I went in. His flat is the first on the right on the ground floor as you go in, so it only takes a few seconds to get to his front door."

"Did you take a taxi there?"

"Yes."

"Good. Go on."

"The front door to his flat was ajar, so I didn't even knock. I pushed it open a little and called out."

"Did you have a key to his flat? Or did he often leave the door open for you?" Anthony asked, his voice more strained than before.

"No I didn't have a key, and I had visited him at his flat only twice before. He'd not left the door open either time. I was worried by it really. I didn't get any answer so I called again pushing the door wide open. It was then that I saw him on the floor in the living room along the corridor."

"Where was he exactly?"

"In front of his desk; between the desk and the door to the corridor to the front door. The living room door was also open. I ran to him and knelt by his side, feeling for a pulse but I couldn't find one. There was a lot of blood. His face and neck were covered in it. I kept calling his name. I saw the dagger when I felt his neck for a pulse. It was lying by the side of his head."

"Which side?"

She thought for a moment. "His left. He was lying facing upwards. Then there was this police officer behind me. He muttered something, I can't remember what and I said "Thank heavens you're here, officer. I think he's dead. I found this dagger." He felt Michael's pulse too and said "I'm sorry, Miss, you're right. He's gone." I think I sagged a bit then. It was all a shock."

"Did you say anything more?"

"I think I said something like "Oh no." "

"Anything else?"

"I think I also said "Sorry Michael." "

"Why did you say that, Lady Edith?"

She paused then and looked into Anthony's eyes properly for the first time.

"Because that afternoon, the last time I saw him alive, I had broken off our relationship. There were…harsh words spoken on both sides. I felt bad that those were the last words he heard from me."

"I understand" Anthony said gently. "Why did you end the affair?" he asked trying to be detached and failing.

"That's just it, Anthony; it wasn't an affair. Michael wanted me to sleep with him but I wasn't even comfortable kissing him – him, a married man. He became more and more insistent but I…well I just couldn't. And I told him so that day intending to return to Downton and give up _The Sketch_. I might have written for other papers, but not for Michael."

Relief flooded through Anthony's chest; so she hadn't cared about Gregson _that_ much after all. Was there still hope for him?

"Ah. What happened then?"

"The policeman sat me down and got me a glass of water. Then he arrested me and the rest is a bit of a blur to be honest. That was the last straw."

There was a long silence while Anthony thought over what he'd heard.

"Lady Edith, I am going to leave now. Thank you for putting up with me and my questions for this long." She looked at him with something like panic in her eyes. He needed to reassure her and, glad of the excuse, placed his hand on hers.

"You've been through so much that I don't want to burden you further now. But I promise you, if you want me to, I shall visit you every day from now on…if it would help?"

"Sir Anthony I'd be very grateful if you would. It's…it's so lonely here. Thank you for all you are doing" A tear ran down her face. Anthony had to hold back his instinct to hold her and kiss the tear away. Instead, he gave her his handkerchief and said "Lady Edith, not only do I believe you are innocent, I _know_ you are. But I am also going to prove it to everyone and get you out of here."


	4. Chapter 4: Making Tea for Beginners

**_A/N: I realise that this isn't exactly Agatha Christie or Colin Dexter, but that isn't really the point. Still, if you notice a clue that has gone awry, do tell me! Thank you for continuing to read and support Anthony as he fights for Edith!_**

* * *

_._

That night Edith lay awake holding Anthony's handkerchief reliving his visit over and over again. It was astounding and wonderful that he had managed to get himself detailed to her case – and so quickly. It was incredible that he had _wanted_ to. She remembered that practicality was a characteristic they shared. He had been very thorough in his questioning, but his demeanour was the same as it had been eighteen months previously, if a little more uncertain. That was not surprising. He probably hadn't expected a warm welcome from her. The last time she'd seen him he'd called her his 'dearest darling' and hoped that God would bless her always. For too long she had thought that those would be the last words she'd ever hear from his lips. She was so glad, (madly overjoyed in fact), that she had been wrong. When she had been engaged to Sir Anthony Strallan everyone, _everyone_, including him, had thought she was settling in her choice of companion. They thought she should have someone younger. Yet examining her feelings now she was surer than ever that she had been _settling with Michael Gregson_ and very unhappily too. Whereas Anthony…

Anthony consoled and comforted her just with his presence. He excited her and made her feel loved just because he was willing to give up his time and skills in the service of her cause, making her feel like some mediaeval lady with a knight errant. The thought that his chivalry might be inspired by what feelings he still had for her thrilled her and gave her hope. All of this made her present position so much more difficult to bear than it had been last night when she had nothing to hope for. Now she had something – _someone_ – to live for.

* * *

_._

In bed at his club, Anthony wasn't getting any sleep either. He felt guilty at the excellent dinner he'd had there when he compared it to the pervading smell of cabbage and mutton in Holloway. His bed was less comfortable than his own at Locksley, but vastly superior to the sack Edith was trying to rest on right now only a mile or two away. But he knew he couldn't do a thing for Edith without proving her innocence. After dinner he had written up his notes on the interview with Edith. There was no more he could do tonight and he'd be more effective and more useful to her tomorrow if he got some sleep.

But her eyes! Compared to the young, vibrant woman he'd almost married, Edith now appeared to have aged at least ten years. He was sure that hadn't all happened in the last four days. Equally it wasn't all Gregson's fault either. Eighteen months ago he thought he had freed Edith, freed her to find love with a whole and younger man, freed her to live her life to the full. What he had actually done, it appeared, was to rip all the confidence and spirit out of her. He'd crushed her as surely as if he had put his hands around her slight neck and squeezed until her body was lifeless in his arms. Why had he not realised how much he had truly meant to her? Why could he not see it until it was too late and she was in this mess?

* * *

_._

The next morning Chaunter entered his office early to find Anthony there already.

"Morning Strallan."

"Good morning, Sir."

"How'd you get on at Holloway?"

"I've put a copy of my report on your desk. I believe I have a lead, but I need Sergeant Dickinson's information to follow it up."

Chaunter chuckled. "Look, Strallan, you don't have to prove you're efficient to me."

"Sorry, Sir. I just like to be thorough."

"How's Lady Edith?"

Anthony was surprised at the question. "She's bearing up, but she is obviously under a lot of strain. Does she have a counsel yet?"

"Yes. Her father's engaged Sir John Prowse."

"Good heavens! Maybe he does care about her."

"Or at least about his family's reputation. I understand he and the Countess are going to be travelling down to see Lady Edith and staying for the trial – which has been set for three weeks hence."

"That's not usual is it, Sir? It's far too soon…"

"I told you; the Chief Constable wants this dealt with as quickly as possible." More quietly he went on "He wants the execution to take place within a week after that."

"But she's innocent!" Anthony almost shouted. "How can he be so sure…and before the trial?"

"He's seen the evidence at present. You yourself admitted it looked bad."

"But we haven't…"

Sergeant Dickinson entered the office and Anthony stopped talking.

"Hello" said the Sergeant.

"Good morning" replied Anthony.

"Morning Dicky" said Chaunter more normally "This is Anthony Strallan, a Special Constable who's been lent to us for the Gregson case."

"Oh, right ho! I've got the stuff from the telephone company. There's only three telephones installed in Highbury Court. They are in…" he consulted his notebook, "Mr Gregson's, Flat 2, ground floor. Colonel Henderson's, Flat 3, first floor. And Mrs Bartley's, Flat 6, second floor."

"That's excellent, thank you" said Anthony. "Do you have the numbers?"

"Yes, of course."

"That's just what I need to bother the exchange operator."

"What for, Strallan?" asked Chaunter.

"To find out which telephone was used to make the emergency call at 7:51pm."

_._

After twenty minutes on the phone Anthony had the number.

"It's Islington 201."

Dickinson looked at his notes again. "Well I'm a monkey's uncle! That's Gregson's own telephone!"

"Yet" mused Anthony "that call reported a disturbance in Gregson's flat as if it were somewhere else. In other words, the caller was lying."

"And the only reason the caller would have for lying would be if they were the murderer" muttered Chaunter. "But why would the murderer _want_ to report Gregson's death to the Police?"

Anthony replied, stony-faced "So that Sergeant Dickinson would find Lady Edith with the body, and so she would be framed for Gregson's murder."

"Or she felt guilty and wanted to be caught?" said Chaunter, acting devil's advocate.

"That is possible" said Anthony, trying to be logical. "Except that Lady Edith says she arrived at Highbury Court only just as eight o'clock was striking so she can't have made the call."

"Or she is lying about that too."

"I'm glad to say she isn't. I've talked to the Islington Town Hall officials who say that their clock is always kept at the correct time, and spoken to the taxi driver who delivered Lady Edith to Highbury Court. He corroborates her story; he heard the chimes himself. She is telling the truth" declared Anthony.

"You did all that this morning?" gasped Chaunter.

"Yes" stated Anthony as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "What I think we need to do now…"

"What we need to do now is to get you to make us all a cup of tea!" exclaimed Chaunter "before you put us all out of a job!"

"Oh…ah…um…" murmured Anthony.

"What?" asked Chaunter.

"I'm afraid I don't know how."

Chaunter and Dickinson exchanged incredulous looks.

* * *

_._

Dickinson walked purposefully down the corridor to where the telephonists worked thinking about his recent conversation with Strallan. He had never had to teach a fifty-year-old man how to make a cup of tea before. It had been rather awkward for them both.

_._

"…and the water has to be boiling and the pot warmed" repeated Anthony.

"So the tea don't cool before it's brewed, see? Now, how much tea?"

"One teaspoon for each person and one for the pot."

"That's right! 'Ere, how come you've never made a cup of tea before?"

"I'm ashamed to say that I've always had people to do it for me" confessed Anthony.

Dickinson put his head on one side.

"You some kind of lord?"

"Merely a baronet" admitted Anthony.

"Bloody 'ell. Why're you 'ere doing this then? Did you know Gregson?"

Anthony looked at the kettle with enormous interest as his cheeks flushed. "No: I know Lady Edith."

The penny dropped for the Sergeant.

"You're sweet on her!"

"Well…yes, I suppose you could put it that way."

_._

But despite all that, Strallan seemed like a nice bloke; not above himself with a good sense of humour and damned good at the job.

He found Brenda, the Head Telephonist.

"Wotcha!"

"Hello Bert! What can we be a-doing of for you?"

"I'm looking up details of an emergency call in this Gregson case."

"Oooh, yes!" cooed Brenda "he was the Editor man who was carrying on with that Lady Someone, yes? And she stabbed him?"

Having just spoken to Anthony about Lady Edith, Dickinson was a bit uncomfortable with this.

"Well, that's what the papers say, but, yes, that's the case."

Brenda looked up the report for Dickinson, who thanked her and returned to the office.


	5. Chapter 5: Setting a Trap

_**A/N: Congratulations to all those who guessed the identity of the murderer (although I don't think I made it all that difficult for you!). Do please continue to review! It's great to hear how the twists and turns are received!**_

* * *

_._

Anthony and Chaunter were at the Coroner's Office talking to Dr Fitzallen, the police pathologist who carried out the post mortem on Gregson.

"His throat was cut" said Fitzallen with all the delicacy and gentleness for which pathologists the world over are known.

"Could he have cut it himself?" asked Chaunter.

"Unlikely, unless he was _very_ determined and good with a blade. The cut was quite deep, you see. So it's much more likely he was murdered."

"Was he attacked from behind or from the front?" asked Anthony.

"From behind I'd say. From the front you get a more random slashing effect. Gregson's wound was more of a determined steady cut."

"And do you think the attacker was right- or left-handed?"

Fitzallen looked at Anthony properly. "Interesting you should ask that. I'd be ninety-nine per cent sure the murderer was left-handed. The wound was a surface slice on the right side of his neck, and a draw-through on the left, you see? How did you know?"

Anthony smiled modestly. "Merely a hunch."

Not for the first time, Chaunter looked at Anthony with surprise.

* * *

_._

On the short walk back to the office, Chaunter asked Anthony "That was important, I could see, but why?"

"Because Lady Edith is right-handed. It's circumstantial, but it all helps."

Anthony was in a much better mood as he entered the office and saw Dickinson.

"Any joy with the telephonists, Dicky?"

"Yes; the call report says 7:51pm definitely…"

"Wonderful" murmured Anthony.

"…the caller said there were sounds of a violent argument coming from Flat 2. But…that the caller was a composed, well-spoken woman. That sounds rather like it _was_ Lady Edith, don't it?"

Anthony closed his eyes and his face fell.

* * *

_._

It was five o'clock, and on his second visit Anthony was beginning to know his way through the Holloway Prison corridors. The cell door was opened for him and he stepped in to find Lady Edith standing to greet him with a smile on her face. His heart leapt.

"Lady Edith! You are looking a lot better today, I'm glad to say."

She stepped towards him hesitantly.

"It's knowing you are trying to get me out of here. And having a visit to look forward to. I want you to know how grateful I am."

_Can I really make that sort of difference to her? With just the little I am doing now? If so, how much more power to make her happy might I have if I really tried?_ The thought intoxicated him.

He mumbled "You're very welcome. Look, I've brought you some proper food." He opened his briefcase which, as well as his papers, contained a steak and kidney pie, a crunchy apple, shortbread, and a large bar of chocolate. Her eyes widened with the glorious unexpectedness of it. Then she looked at him with such love in her eyes and kissed his cheek…like she used to. His breath caught.

"You are so kind and thoughtful. Thank you, Sir Anthony."

"Please! Just 'Anthony'. I've also brought a small bottle of eau de cologne to freshen up that horrid bed, but you'd better give it back to me when I go. I have a feeling that's against the rules, even for policemen."

"Are you really a police officer now, Anthony?" Edith asked after a mouthful of pie.

"I'm afraid I am. Special Constable Anthony Strallan at your service!"

She giggled and they both felt better.

"Speaking of which…I'm sorry but I have to ask you some more questions."

"Do I have to tell the truth or does the chocolate count as bribery?"

"You can tell fibs and flatter me afterwards" smiled Anthony. He looked at his notes. "Would you mind telling me why you were visiting Gregson that evening, if you'd broken with him that afternoon?" Anthony feared her answer, despite everything.

"I'm not sure why he wanted to see me. I suspect he wanted to try to talk me out of leaving."

"He didn't say when he invited you?"

"I didn't speak to him. I got a message from his secretary, Miss Price. She telephoned about six o'clock to say that Michael insisted I go out to dinner with him and to meet him at his flat at eight o'clock."

"You didn't speak to him directly at all?"

"No."

"What time was it when you did last speak to him?"

"About five o'clock, in his office at _The Sketch_."

"Was Miss Price around then?"

"Yes."

Anthony thought for a moment.

"Mmm. What do you think of Miss Price?"

"I'm afraid she's always struck me as a bit of a sour puss. She's stern to everyone, except Michael. She worships…sorry, worshipped the ground he walked on, and Michael loved it, of course. Although I think he treated her very badly, making more and more outrageous and demeaning demands of her, just because he knew he could and she would do whatever he asked."

"Does she have an accent?"

"No, not at all. In fact she's very well-spoken for a Secretary. I think she must have worked at it."

"Thank you, Edith. Thank you so much" Anthony breathed with relief. "Anything else I can bring for you tomorrow?" he asked.

"Just yourself" Edith replied. Looking into her eyes, Anthony lost himself. More shyly she said "I can't tell you how much comfort you bring."

A voice in Anthony's head screamed at him and for the first time in his life he heeded it. He leaned to her and kissed her cheek before knocking for the door to be opened.

* * *

_._

Chaunter's office contained two desks. Chaunter's was covered in papers, dirty cups, and a cloth bag. It was what you might call well lived-in. In contrast, Anthony's was neat and this morning featured one large piece of paper. It boasted what Chaunter thought looked like hieroglyphics in double Dutch.

"Can you explain this to me without breaking any military intelligence laws?"

"It's merely a time-place plan, Sir" answered Anthony. "It plots where Lady Edith, Gregson, and a few other people were, or at least where they claim to have been, throughout that evening. I need one more fact which I hope I can get today and I can tell you with certainty who killed Gregson."

"Really?!"

"Yes Sir. The difficult thing is that at present all my evidence is circumstantial. Unless we get a confession I fear it will be very difficult to prove it in the time we have available."

"Well, if you can get this person into a position which makes them confess – without coercion, of course…juries and judges don't like it, you know – I will be very glad, Anthony. Where do you need to go to get your one more fact?"

"The office of _The Sketch_, and I will need your help, Sir."

"That's funny" muttered Chaunter "I thought you were supposed to be assisting me!"

Anthony had been looking over at Chaunter's desk.

"Sorry to ask, Sir, but is that…?"

Chaunter looked down at the cloth bag. "Yes, yes, it is. Would it help to see it?"

"It might" answered Anthony, taking it from the Inspector. He opened it and drew out the dagger. It had been cleaned, and it was about a foot long and quite sharp. "I have a horrible feeling that I know what this is, Sir" he said.

"Go on."

"It's a duelling dagger or poignard. I'm old enough to have belonged to a formal duelling society in my youth; just competitive fencing really. It was all the rage in the '90s for students to test out their prowess in bouts between themselves, you know. Duelling scars were highly prized. That was all a long time ago." He sighed. "But these daggers…well you had your foil, épée, or sabre…the main weapon, and one of these, for parrying. The point is…they come in pairs."

* * *

_._

"I apologise for this, Miss Price, but may my colleagues and I ask a few more questions of you and some of the other staff? Nothing to worry about; it's all routine and it won't take long" said Chaunter.

"Of course, Inspector" she said, eyeing Anthony and Dickinson warily.

The three of them had come along to _The Sketch_ offices together, just to cover everything and notice as much as possible. Additionally, Anthony had asked Dickinson to look at Miss Price carefully. "I think you may have seen her before, Dicky" he'd said, meaningfully.

"Sergeant Dickinson, Constable Strallan, would you speak to the reporters please?"

"Very good Sir" they replied. Anthony moved away and looked at Dickinson who nodded at him.

"Yes, you was right, Strallan. She was there at Highbury Court that evening."

"Thank you, Dicky. Our first piece of real, hard evidence!"

Anthony then selected three of the staff who had desks nearest the Editor's office and began asking them if they had seen Gregson leave the office on the day of his death, and if so what time that was (they all agreed on half past five), but also what time Miss Price had left (between a quarter and half past six). All the time he was watching Chaunter and Miss Price.

"Do please continue with anything you need to do while I ask these last few questions, Miss Price" said Chaunter.

"Thank you Inspector. We have an earlier than usual deadline to meet now, to allow the replacement Editor time to approve everything, you know?"

Chaunter asked her some run-of-the-mill questions about the routine in the office. Miss Price went about her business, sorting papers into piles on her desk.

Chaunter dropped the real question into the middle of his red herrings. "Did Mr Gregson keep a key to his flat here, perhaps in case of locking himself out?" Miss Price hesitated, her eyes flickering towards Gregson's office, deliberating on her answer. It took a split second, but Chaunter noticed it.

"Er, yes, I believe he did, Inspector" she said.

"I wonder if we could take it? We need to look at his flat again, and it would be easier than breaking the door down."

Miss Price stuttered "Yes…yes, of course. I'll see if I can find it."

"Thank you" said Chaunter. But no matter how many drawers she opened she couldn't find the key, just as Chaunter and Anthony had suspected. Chaunter thanked her again and went to join Anthony and Dicky.

As he moved away, Miss Price began signing letters. Chaunter glanced in Anthony's direction, and he was smiling a faint, mirthless smile. Miss Joan Price was left-handed.


	6. Chapter 6: Focussing the Mind

_A/N: Yes, before you scream at me, I have quoted some of Sayers' own lines in this chapter - because they are brilliant and I couldn't possible improve on them, okay? The rating for this chapter moves up to K+ simply because of the description of capital punishment that we in the UK practiced before we became a bit more 'civilised'._

_**"Depend upon it, sir, when a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully."**_

_**-Samuel Johnson  
**_

* * *

_._

"So she's been lying all along!" grumbled Chaunter.

"Totally. I checked at Gregson's club. No one saw him there that day, not the doorman, not the barman, no one."

"So what do you think really did happen?"

Chaunter and Dickinson sat in the office and settled down to hear Anthony's theory.

"Lady Edith broke off with Gregson at about five o'clock. After that she returns to her rooms. Miss Price has witnessed this and thinks she might be in with a chance to catch Gregson on the rebound. She goes in to his office and tells him that she's…er, how did you describe it, Dicky?…sweet on him. But he rebuffs her and leaves the office at half past five. I think he probably went straight home. Miss Price now wants revenge on them both; a sort of 'if I can't have him no one will' passion. At six o'clock she telephones Lady Edith to tell her Gregson wants to have dinner with her, and that she should go to his flat at eight o'clock. Miss Price then takes Gregson's spare flat key and somehow procures a dagger. She lets herself into Gregson's flat between seven and half past and confronts him. He rejects her again and she slits his throat by getting behind him and taking him by surprise. She uses Gregson's own telephone to call the police to complain about the loud and violent argument between him and Lady Edith that we know didn't happen. Just before eight o'clock she opens the front door and leaves it ajar, then hides to make sure that it is Lady Edith and no one else whom the police, you Dicky, will discover with the body. Lady Edith arrives and leaves the front door wide open. Miss Price slips out, taking the spare flat key home with her. Dicky passes by her in the corridor but it makes no impression on him then. Only when we saw Miss Price yesterday at _The Sketch _offices was he able to confirm that she'd been there. And there you are. That's our case, so far. Quite indicative, but not conclusive."

"Right. Well, there's nothing for it. We go ahead with the plan as agreed tomorrow, Anthony, and let's hope she bites."

* * *

_._

The moment Anthony entered Edith's cell that evening, he knew something was wrong. Edith had been crying, and was trying to hide it from him.

"Edith, what's the matter, sweetheart?" the endearment slipping out without him even noticing.

"Sir John Prowse visited me today, with my parents. He told me to prepare myself for the worst."

"He's only seen the evidence as it stands, dearest. I was depressed by that too. But I…"

"Anthony: I don't really know what happens, and I am afraid. I'm afraid of shadows. I need to know. Please tell me. If it comes to it, what actually happens?" she pleaded.

Perhaps she did need to know, he thought. At least then, as she said, she'd know the truth and not imagine anything worse. He sat her down on the bed and sat close to her, his good arm lightly around her shoulders. He tried to keep his voice matter of fact, gently quiet.

"A date is set, usually fairly quickly after the trial. The sentence is carried out at eight o'clock in the morning. You will be given time with a Chaplain the night before and in the morning, if you want. At a quarter to eight you will be taken to a room next door to the room housing the gallows. There your hands will be tied behind your back. The hangman will walk you through to the other room and stand you on the trapdoor. Your legs will be bound together. Restraining you like that means you can't struggle and make things worse for yourself." Anthony swallowed hard, looking deeply into Edith's trusting eyes.

"He'll put a hood over your face and the noose over the hood, around your neck. He'll open the trapdoor and, if he's good at his job, your neck will be broken. It'll all be over in a second." Anthony's voice had broken and he only just finished before his owns fears almost choked him.

"And if he isn't good at his job?"

"Then…you will be strangled and it'll take…longer. But it won't come to that, because you are innocent" the certainty returned to his words, as he held her tighter.

"You are very sure, aren't you?" she whimpered.

"I'm sure you didn't do it. I am trying to be sure that I can prove it in time. Like you I'm scared…scared that I won't be able to. Oh God, my darling Edith, if you have to live that night through, knowing what eight o'clock will bring, I promise you I won't let you be alone. I'll be here, and live that night through with you, and in the same knowledge. I will die at the same moment. You won't die alone." His eyes, now filled with tears like hers, burned at her.

"In fact, we could cheat the hangman altogether. I could bring in a razor or poison or something, anything, and we'll die together here at a time and in a manner of our own choosing sometime that night."

"Why? Why would you do that?" she sobbed, fear getting the better of her and lashing out like a cornered animal. "Are you sure you don't have a dark side to you, Anthony? Is there something about a murderess that attracts you and excites you?"

"It can't be that because I know you didn't do it. I would choose to die with you because I know I can't live without you. I tried once, but not again. Because if I hadn't been a damned fool and walked away from our wedding this would never have happened to you. You wouldn't have had to face this. I want to offer whatever consolation I can, including dying with you. Because…because…I love you."

She stared at him, quieter and less desperate now; his words had stilled her. She realised he would never leave her again, and she truly wasn't alone.

"Really?" she whispered.

"Really" he answered, very quietly "completely, with all my heart and soul."

"I love you too Anthony." She had lowered her eyes as she said it, as though she should be ashamed of the fact. Hadn't everyone told her she shouldn't be in love with this man? Hadn't he himself said so? Despair broke through once more and she began to weep silently.

Anthony couldn't stand it any longer. He drew her to him gently but insistently with his good arm and when she raised her head, kissed her hard. If he had had any doubts as to her feelings they were dispelled then. She reacted with a passionate eagerness, frantically needing the comfort of his embrace. After a while she shuffled her shoulder under his sling so that she could be nearer his body. It felt like the only place she could feel…safe wasn't the right word, but…given sanctuary.

Anthony was lost. He had been lost in her since he'd confessed he'd never leave her alone at the last, if it really happened. He let his lips cover her face, wet with both their tears, with loving but urgent kisses, then began to do the same for her neck. When she let a little moan of pleasure escape he knew that he had, indeed, the power he'd always hoped he had, to comfort her, to please her. He reached for her hand and brought it up to his lips, to distract himself from kissing her properly again.

"My darling, while we are talking about things that will not happen, if you are found guilty, _which you won't be_, I want to marry you as soon as possible. Would you marry me here? The prison chaplain can do it."

Edith began to weep again, now from joy. She cast her arms around Anthony's broad shoulders again, murmuring "Yes, yes, a thousand times, yes."

Eventually, when they had paused in their kissing, Edith drew back from Anthony with a frown.

"Does that mean you _don't_ want to marry me if I'm proved innocent?"

Anthony laughed, more relieved. "Oh, my darling, you will be proved innocent, I am sure, especially after tomorrow. And of course I want to marry you, but properly, and in Downton Church, in front of everyone who was there the first time, to atone for my sins."

"You don't have to atone, but I'd love that. What's so special about tomorrow?"

"I'm meeting with Miss Price at Gregson's flat. If all goes to plan, she will confess to killing him. Then, when I see you tomorrow, I shall be bringing your release papers with me!"

"Miss Price? No, that just isn't possible."

"Why not?" Anthony replied, panic in his voice. Had he got it wrong; had he really made such a howling mistake?

"She loved Michael, far more than I ever did. I don't think I loved him at all, not really."

"Love makes people do very strange things, my sweet one: murder, jilting at the altar, becoming a police officer. Oh yes, love's a very odd but powerful thing."


	7. Chapter 7: Balanced On A Knife-Edge

_**A/N: Thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews. You are too kind, but it is all much appreciated!**_

_**I did think that this chapter was going to be the last of this story, but Anthony and Edith, politely but insistently, have taken over and are writing the next few chapters (which will be PWP now the mystery is tied up) themselves, and not even allowing me to edit.**_

* * *

_._

When the telephone rang, Dicky answered as agreed, with Chaunter and Anthony watching. When he'd finished he gave a whistle.

"That was our Miss Price. You know what? She's found the key to Gregson's flat!"

"There's a surprise!" said Chaunter, sarcastically. "At least she realised that we were implicating her if she couldn't find the key. Of course, that may mean she suspects something but that can't be helped. We had no time to be more subtle. Did you spring the trap?"

"Yes and she bit. She's going to meet Strallan at Highbury Court at five o'clock this afternoon."

"Very good" said Anthony.

"Are you sure about this, Anthony?" asked Chaunter, not for the first time.

"Absolutely, Sir. I don't think she would try anything."

But Sir Anthony Strallan was a much better liar than most...when he wanted to be.

* * *

_._

Chaunter was trying to fit into one of the cupboards in Gregson's living room.

"Oh bloody hell! You couldn't fit a mouse in here!"

"Try this one, Sir." Anthony's voice was muffled inside another cupboard. "I think it may be a bit bigger."

Chaunter couldn't fit inside that one either. There was only one thing for it, and that was that Chaunter and Dickinson would listen to Anthony's conversation with Miss Price from behind the bedroom door, and they decided that would have to do.

They had let themselves in with Gregson's main keys, which the police had, of course, taken away with them when they removed the body.

Chaunter said "Right, well, I suppose you'd better push off, Anthony, before our Miss Price arrives."

"Very good, Sir" said Anthony turning to the door, but he was stopped by Chaunter's hand on his arm.

"Be careful, won't you?"

Anthony smiled at him and went out.

"He's a rum one and no mistake" observed Dickinson, affectionately.

"You can say that again."

* * *

_._

Miss Price was punctual. Anthony greeted her politely outside of Highbury Court.

"Good afternoon, Miss Price."

"Good afternoon, Sir Anthony" she replied with cold, smug _hauteur_.

That shocked him.

She unlocked the door and let them both in, leading the way to the living room, past the bedroom door, which was just ajar, Chaunter opening it just enough to hear them once they had passed by.

"Oh it was quite obvious really" she went on smoothly. "Lady Edith was jilted by someone named Strallan. We commented on it in _The Sketch_. And then you turn up with your polished manners and noble restraint. Strallan isn't that common a name. Did you really think you could pass off as a policeman, Sir Anthony? They have bigger feet."

"As you seem to have me…bang to rights" she laughed, cruelly, at his attempt at copper's slang "no, I didn't think I could be mistaken for a proper policeman. But I had hurt Lady Edith, as you say. This was a way of…"

"…of trying to put it right? You know nothing of women if you think this is going to help" she sneered.

"Really? Well, I dare say you're right. Look, Miss Price, what do you think I could do to make it up to her? I'd value your advice, as a woman."

"Well, there's not much time now, is there? She's going to hang within a month, for cutting Michael's throat, right here." She spat the words out with venom, pointing to the exact spot where Michael's body had fallen. Anthony sighed with cold contentment. He knew now that he'd done it, he'd proved Edith's innocence.

He went on "Do you think Mr Gregson deserved what he got, Miss Price?"

"No, of course not. I mean, he could be…he didn't always appreciate…" she stuttered in a less angry, more emotional voice.

"You mean, he like me, couldn't see true love in a beautiful woman when it was offered, even when it was right under his nose?"

"Yes, that's it exactly" she began to sob.

"We men can be very stupid, Miss Price. I'm sure he would have come to love you if he had lived."

"No he wouldn't" she wailed. "He said…he said I was a harridan, and a bag of bones."

"Oh you're not…what a cad" purred Anthony, sympathetically. "What else did he say?"

"That he'd rather die than kiss me!"

"That's horrible thing to say. What happened then?"

"He tried to throw me out! He pushed me! But I was too quick for him."

"Is that when you killed him?"

"I…" she began "I didn't kill him."

"But you were here in the flat the night he died, as you just said? Perhaps you saw something that would assist us? You said that Mr Gregson was lying...where exactly?"

"There" Miss Price said pointing again "in front of the desk."

"And his throat was cut?"

"Yes."

"Miss Price, how did you know Mr Gregson's throat was cut? Even _The Sketch_ reported only that he was stabbed. How do you know that his body lay there? You pointed to the precise place."

Anthony turned to the bedroom door, trying to make contact with Chaunter if he could without alerting his and Dickinson's presence to Miss Price. He wasn't sure that enough had been said. Did Chaunter want him to continue the conversation? He heard Miss Price open her handbag, and then rush towards him from behind. He began to turn back to her at the very moment that she plunged a dagger, the twin of the one that killed Gregson, into him. She'd run at Anthony aiming the dagger's point between his shoulder blades, but he'd turned at the last moment and she buried it to the hilt through his right shoulder, his bad shoulder, between the collar bone and the shoulder blade. She withdrew the blade viciously and raised it to try again, but Anthony, only just managing with all his strength to stay on his feet and out of her reach, was too tall for her to cut his throat. Suddenly her wrist was held in the vice-like grip of Sergeant Dickinson.

Miss Price began swearing obscenities at Anthony, Dickinson, and all mankind. Dickinson's only response was "Big feet, eh?" before he arrested her for the murder of Gregson and the attack on Anthony. He pulled her across the room so that he could disarm her safely and handcuff her, which he did with some difficulty as she struggled.

Chaunter ran to Anthony, who had slumped onto the floor.

"Anthony! Come on, man! Open your eyes! Say something!"

Anthony's eyelids flickered, and he whispered "Tell Lady Edith…" before he slipped into unconsciousness.

Leaning to Anthony he shouted "Whatever you want to tell her, you're bloody well going to tell her yourself! Come on, Anthony, don't do this to me. Oh god" Chaunter could see that he was losing blood and too fast. He covered the wound with his handkerchief and pressed firmly, then shouted over at Dickinson.

"Cuff that hellcat to the radiator, and telephone for an ambulance and some more men. Quickly! He's bleeding to death!"


	8. Chapter 8: A Proper Gentleman

_._

Hours later, when her cell door opened, Edith started to run to embrace the man walking through it, but stopped short when she realised it wasn't Anthony.

"Good evening Lady Edith, my name is Inspector Chaunter."

"Oh, Inspector" Edith breathed, offering her hand and trying to cover her embarrassment "um…pleased to meet you. Sir Anthony has told me lots about you."

"All bad, I hope?" he smiled, sadly, wistfully.

"He's very complimentary."

"That's kind of him. Er, look, um…I have your release papers. If you would like to gather up your belongings, I will make sure all the paperwork is done, and then you are free to leave. All charges against you have been dropped, thanks to Sir Anthony."

"He did it. He really did it." She closed her eyes in gratitude and joy. Then she opened them again sparkling with anticipation. "Is he here too…?" she said peering past him. Chaunter knew in that moment that she really did love Anthony.

"May I sit down, Lady Edith?"

When he had sat and she had joined him he began to speak, looking for the right words.

"Sir Anthony knew, I am sure, that the operation to catch Miss Price was more dangerous than he let on to me. I wish he had told me, and I could perhaps have done more to prepare. But…"

"No…please, no…" Edith murmured, fearing the worst.

"He's alive" Chaunter rushed to assure her "but he is quite badly wounded. Miss Price stabbed him. He lost a lot of blood before we got him to hospital. The doctors are operating on him now."

He watched how Lady Edith was taking this news, then added "After we've got the paperwork done, I'll take you straight there."

"Thank you Inspector."

* * *

_._

On the journey over to the hospital, Chaunter told Edith how they had finally caught Miss Price.

"Your Sir Anthony really is quite a remarkable man, Lady Edith. Without his intelligence, hard work, and his unswerving belief in you, I'm ashamed to admit we would have tried the wrong person for Mr Gregson's murder."

"He is a remarkable man, Inspector. And I'm glad he found you to help him and support him; it seems as though you both appreciated each other. I wish my family could have understood what you have seen at first hand." She saw the question in his eyes and continued. "It was my family's disapproval of him, of his war wound and his age, that caused him to walk out of our wedding."

"Did he? Colonel Gervas didn't tell me that. Anthony jilted you?" Chaunter asked incredulously.

"Yes. We were actually in the church, the ceremony had begun and he stopped it and walked out. Because he thought he wasn't good enough for me."

"Lady Edith, I've seen how much Anthony loves you. Walking out like that must have cost him an enormous amount of courage. After Miss Price attacked him, before he passed out, he said something to me. He said 'Tell Lady Edith…' but he didn't get to finish it. I think we can both guess what he wanted to say."

Edith nodded. Then she remembered something.

"Oh, my parents…Inspector, would it be possible to get a message to them to let them know…?"

"Already done, my lady. I had Dicky…sorry, Sergeant Dickinson, the policeman who arrested you, call Sir John Prowse when he got back to the station, and Sir John contacted them. I believe the Earl and Countess are on their way to the hospital too."

"And Sir Anthony's next of kin is his sister, I believe…"

"All informed, my lady. Please don't worry yourself."

"I'm sorry, Inspector. I can't help worrying."

* * *

_._

Chaunter accompanied Edith to the ward. Anthony was out of surgery, but still unconscious from the anaesthetic. He'd been placed in a small side ward by himself. Edith walked up to the side of his bed and looked down at him, tears beginning to gather in her eyes. His face was relaxed, and she stroked his fair hair.

"I've spoken to the nurses. They say that he's doing well, thank heavens. You're welcome to stay with him. They'll bring you a cup of tea."

Without moving her gaze from Anthony's face, Edith said "Thank you Inspector". Chaunter drew a chair nearer to the bed, and gently eased Edith down into it.

"When he was working in our office…Lord, only a few days ago; it seems much longer…I asked Anthony to make Dicky and me some tea and he confessed that he didn't know how. So Dicky being Dicky went and gave him a lesson. Can you imagine it?" Edith smiled at the thought.

Chaunter continued "That's what I like about Anthony. He respects everyone. He's a proper gentleman."

"Yes, Inspector. Yes he is."

Chaunter squeezed her shoulder comfortingly and mumbled something about 'if he could do anything for her'. He pressed his card with his contact details into her hand and left, promising to visit Anthony the next day.

* * *

_._

"Anthony…my darling…my dearest darling. I wonder if you can hear me. If you can, I want you to know that I'm here. You said that you wouldn't rest until you had proved I was innocent, and that's exactly what you've done, my sweetheart. You got me out of that mess, and out of Holloway. I don't even have to stand trial. And I'm so very grateful. But freedom won't be worth a farthing unless you are there to share it with me, Anthony. If you still want me to be your wife, Anthony, I so want to marry you. Oh Anthony…Anthony."

She took his good hand and kissed it, and pressed it to her cheek, and prayed with all her might that Sir Anthony Strallan would come back to her.

* * *

_._

Robert and Cora Crawley stepped quietly into the private side ward. Their daughter was so focussed on the unconscious form of Sir Anthony Strallan, holding his hand lovingly, that she didn't even know they were there until Cora spoke.

"My darling." Edith looked up.

"Oh Mama! Papa!" She got up and hugged them both together. "He risked his life for me, to clear my name!"

"We know, my darling" purred Cora, maternally.

With a certain bemusement, Robert added "Someone called Chaunter just stopped us on the way in. He insisted that we needed to know what Anthony did, and the danger he put himself in. We all owe him a great debt."

"And he loves you a great deal more than any of us could have guessed" Cora added in the part of Chaunter's speech that Robert had left out.

"More than I could have guessed, even" whispered Edith. "It wasn't the case that he didn't deserve me; I'm not good enough for him." The tears would not be held back any longer, and she wept. The consolation of her parents was welcome, so very welcome, but the person she most yearned for was unconscious beside her.

* * *

_._

About one o'clock in the morning, Robert tried to persuade Edith to return back to The Savoy with them.

"I can't leave him, Papa."

"Edith, he's sleeping now, the doctors are happy with his progress, you can't help him further tonight. You'll be more use to him tomorrow if you've had some sleep too."

"I mean it, Papa. He promised me that he would never leave me if I was condemned. Now it's my turn. I can't leave him to fight for his life alone."

She was so adamant, although her voice wavered between strength and emotion, that Robert and Cora agreed that the place Edith most needed to be, was by Anthony's side. They too said they would return after breakfast and left.

* * *

_._

About four o'clock, Anthony, still weary and woozy, began to stir. He couldn't quite make out where he was. For the life of him, it looked like the military hospital he'd been sent to after he'd been shot. He tried to turn in his bed and a dreadful pain pinned his right shoulder to the bed. He gave a yelp. _Dear God, this isn't real. I can't be back here!_

Instantly, Edith was awakened from her doze and talking to him, holding his good hand.

"Anthony…Anthony, you're alright. I'm here. It's me, Edith."

"Edith!" _I must be hallucinating either this hospital or Edith. They can't both be true._

"Oh Anthony, my darling, my love. I owe you my life. You did it! Just as you said you would. I'm free."

Then everything came rushing back all at once; Gregson's flat, Miss Price, the dagger.

"Did Chaunter…?"

"Yes, Inspector Chaunter caught Miss Price. She's been arrested. The Inspector was so impressed; I'm very proud of you."

"Edith…sweetheart…my angel…" Reassured, he fell back into a natural sleep.

Edith held his hand for a little longer, smiling contentedly, before she pressed her lips gently to his forehead and allowed herself to get more comfortable in her chair. Before long, she too was sleeping.

* * *

_._

_**A/N: You knew I wouldn't have the heart for another tragedy!**  
_

_**Thank you so much for all your wonderful reviews. I do love reading them and they encourage me so much.  
**_

_**There is a rumour going around that next week (28th January - 3rd February 2013) is FanFiction Appreciation Week. If anyone knows any more details, please PM me and let me know! Thank you.  
**_


	9. Chapter 9: By The Dawn's Early Light

_**A/N: Gosh, you are so wonderful, you know. Thank you again for all your encouragement. I hope you enjoy this!  
**_

* * *

_._

The surgeon popped his head round the door to see Lady Edith looking pensively at Sir Anthony.

"Hello. Has he been awake?"

"Yes, he woke briefly very early this morning, but he's been sleeping since."

"Good, that's good. You must be Lady Edith. I'm Dr Wilkes. I'm the surgeon who operated on your husband."

"Sir Anthony is my fiancé" gabbled Edith as she was thinking _well, I think he is_. She was surprised because she had been mistaken for Anthony's daughter in the past, but never his wife. She immediately warmed to Dr Wilkes.

"Well, just to keep you in the picture: we had to open Sir Anthony up more than we would have liked to, simply because of the angle that the blade entered his shoulder. We had to check that we'd stopped all the bleeding and stitched everything, you know. While we were there we found a lot of trauma from his old wound. I presume that was sustained during the war?"

"Yes. He was shot, but I'm afraid I don't know all the details."

"Not to worry. Anyway, we've patched all of that up as much as we could as well. In particular I've tried something that they're trying in America these days called nerve grafting. Put simply the main nerve controlling his right arm were severed by his war wound and was missing a bit so couldn't heal by itself. I've patched the ends back together again. The nerve may, or may not, regenerate and even if it does, he may, or may not, get the use of the arm back again. Only time will tell. In the meantime, I'm afraid nerve surgery has the unfortunate effect of producing lots of pain, so he'll need the occasional draft of laudanum and as much of your help as you can give."

"Thank you, Doctor. I can't tell you what it will mean to him, and to me, if he could recover just a little movement. May I tell him when he wakes?"

"Yes, of course, but I'll look in again and talk him through anything he wishes to discuss."

* * *

_._

Anthony watched Edith dozing. When he'd woken again his shoulder felt a bit less painful and he'd turned his head to see her there, watching over him. She sat hunched in the chair, her head leaning on one hand, her other hand holding his. He wasn't sure what time it was but judging by the light it was still early. Edith looked tired but relaxed.

_My angel_ he thought. _I wake and you are here. You have no idea how wonderful that feels; how comforting it is. If only I could wake like this every day._

He was torn between wanting to let her sleep on (which would allow him the chance to continue staring at her) and wanting to wake her so he could talk to her. He opted for letting her be so his eyes could wander over her…her lovely face, her bright hair, her gorgeous figure. Despite his shoulder and weariness, he felt an aching surge of love and desire for her. He squeezed her hand relishing the feeling of being able to. There was something magical about being alone with Edith while she slept in the grey dawn. He felt privileged, his familiar sense of unworthiness chased away by the sharp sensations in his arm. He had _earned_ this.

Edith stirred. Without opening her eyes she grimaced at the cramp in her hand, rubbing it and releasing his.

"Good morning" Anthony murmured warmly.

"Good morning my sweet one" Edith replied suddenly giving him a smile that lit up the room, and melted his heart. She leaned forward to him, touching his hand gingerly.

"How are you feeling?"

"Tired but all the better for finding you here when I woke."

She beamed at that, and he fell even more in love with her, if that were possible.

"You're welcome; it was the least I could do when you risked your life for me. You've been through it rather. What do you remember?"

Anthony frowned with the recollection.

"I remember the pain in my shoulder and thinking it was so important to stay upright."

"That probably saved your life. Inspector Chaunter said Miss Price seemed to hesitate simply because she couldn't reach your throat to cut it. If she'd just tried to stab you again, you'd most likely be dead."

"What stopped her, I wonder?"

"Sergeant Dickinson; he grabbed her hand" Edith answered.

Anthony sighed. "I am going to find a way to repay those two. I could not have done it without them."

"But you did do it, Anthony. You cleared my name. You have given me back my life, literally."

Anthony smiled modestly.

"What will you do with it, your life, now you are free to live it to the full?" he asked.

Edith looked down. She knew what she most wanted. Could she really ask him for that? Was he asking her to make the first move? She felt lost and unsure of herself, and didn't really know how to respond. Too much and he might like her less for being unladylike; too little and he might think she didn't care.

"I would like to continue writing" she stated, playing for time. Anthony's smile faded just a little, but he said nothing.

"But" Edith continued "I can write anywhere and submit my pieces by post or telephone. In the immediate future I really would like to return home to Yorkshire."

She had meant it encouragingly. She wouldn't stay in London looking for a different life; she wanted to be near Locksley, near him; but Anthony merely nodded, the sadness in his eyes now plain.

_So_ he thought _what we said, what we shared in your cell…perhaps it was just prompted by your loneliness and desperation, after all. I didn't save you just to own you myself, to chain you to me and imprison you at Locksley and for no other reason, of course I didn't. But, for a moment, I allowed myself to hope. I've released you before, I can do so again. I will not remind you of the things you said. I will not insist on the things you promised. I will let you go, and this time it must be for good for my own sanity's sake._

As the burning in his chest flared he thought back to the last morning he'd spent at Locksley, about a week ago, listening to a blackbird singing at about this time of the morning, and how dead and alone he had felt then and for months before that. Between then and now there had been the frantic activity of the last week, and the exquisite joy of rediscovering Edith's affection. But she had needed him then, or at least she had needed _someone_, not necessarily _him_. He just happened to be there. Now she was free and strong again, needing no one.

He turned his eyes from her, changing the subject.

"I was thinking I might recuperate on the continent. I could do with a change of scene and some sunshine."

"Oh, that's a good idea" said Edith, very pleased. "I'm sure that would do us both good."

Anthony turned back to her like a shot. Did she mean _she'd come with him?_

"Anthony, dearest, I have some news for you." _Heavens, whatever will she say next?_ Anthony thought, incredulously, his emotions all over the place. But whatever he hoped or feared, he would never have guessed what she said next.

"One of the surgeons, a Dr Wilkes, talked to me while you were sleeping. He says he's tried to repair the nerves in your shoulder and that there's a chance that you may regain some of your arm's ability again. But we must recognise it's only a chance, and prepare ourselves for a long and possibly painful recovery." She paused, then continued in a breathless voice.

"But isn't it wonderful that there's even a chance, Anthony? You might be able to drive again...or ride...or...or hold me with both arms...if you want to." Her voice trailed off as her cheeks flamed. Had she gone too far?

"Edith!..." He couldn't find the words. There was too much in what she said: the possibilities, and her obvious pleasure in…well, _in him_. He caught his breath, but almost stopped breathing altogether when he felt her hand smoothing up from his good hand up his forearm. He was suddenly aware that, apart from the copious bandages on his right-hand side, the left side of his body was naked to the waist. And Edith was looking at him.

"And if you want me to, I want to help in any way I can" her voice was small, knowing his feelings on this topic. "I know you don't like being helped, but this is different. This might be your arm becoming strong again, and then you won't need any help at all any more."

"_Edith!_..." His tone was urgent and he began to reach out to her, but he was stopped by a knock at the door, followed quickly by the entrance of a nurse.

"Ah, I thought I heard voices. Good morning, Sir Anthony. I just need to take your temperature and take a look at your bandages. Would you excuse us, Lady Strallan?"

Anthony and Edith looked at each other, she betraying rather more pleasure than him in the mistake.

"Lady Edith is not my wife, madam" Anthony's demeanour quickly became stiff and formal, but Edith was having none of that. As she left she informed the nurse "No, I'm not his wife. I'm his fiancée."

Anthony's eyes registered first shock, then disbelief, and then finally a broad, jubilant smile.

* * *

_._

_**Thank you to Lady Strallan (the author here on FF, not Maud or Edith) who has pointed out to me an interview JF gave where he said that "it's much easier to write about upset and tragedy. It's actually very hard to write about happiness". Well, sorry Lord Fellowes, if I, a craven amateur (and I am not the best author in Anthony/Edith fandom by a long chalk) can do it for no money, FOR THE LOVE OF THE CHARACTERS, surely you should have been able to do it?**  
_

_**Rant ends. Apologies.  
**_


	10. Chapter 10: Waiting

"How is the pain?" asked the nurse.

"Not as bad as it was around dawn, thank you" answered Anthony bravely.

"But still bad, I can see. I'll fetch you some morphine to take the edge off it when I'm done with your bandages. When did you and Lady Edith become engaged, Sir Anthony?" asked the nurse, making polite small talk while changing some of Anthony's dressings.

"The first time or the second?" he replied without thinking. The nurse raised an eyebrow. "And there was a time before that, before the war…" Anthony saw the nurse's expression and stopped talking.

"Quite a passionate affair then?" she mused, in that no-nonsense manner peculiar to nurses.

"I…I wouldn't say that" blurted Anthony in reply.

"Forgive me for saying so, but it's obvious that you love her, I can see that in your eyes. And she's quite barmy about you. So the question is: why hasn't it been passionate? It can't all be protocol?"

Anthony just barely smiled at her sadly. "Me, really." He sighed. "Even if we can fix this blasted arm, the fact remains: I'm too old for her. No doctor can fix that."

"She's been here all night, you know, watching over you. The Inspector brought her here straight from Holloway about ten o'clock. She hasn't even had anything to eat or freshened up. She just wanted to be with you. That sort of love is rare, Sir Anthony. And in my experience, age is relative." She straightened up. "Well, that's you redressed. I expect Dr Wilkes will be round sometime this morning to discuss with you how things are going. He'll be pleased you've come through the anaesthetic so well. Shall I ask Lady Edith to come back in?"

* * *

_._

Edith returned with the nurse a moment later, settling herself back in the chair by Anthony's bedside while the nurse gave him the injection.

"It'll probably make you feel a bit sleepy again soon, Sir Anthony. Don't fight it; just rest" and with that she left. Anthony turned to look at Edith, who was looking slightly tense wondering what Anthony would say.

"The nurse said you haven't eaten, or anything since you left Holloway" he said mildly.

"No, I suppose I haven't. I hadn't really thought about it." Edith was relieved that he wasn't going to challenge her assumption that they were engaged, and happy to talk about something, anything else.

"Why don't you go home and freshen up, get some rest and something to eat while I'm sleeping off the morphine? The nurse said I must rest."

"I want to be here with you, Anthony." She moved closer to hold his hand, as she had done most of the night.

Without much confidence, but with a lot of hope, he raised her hand to his lips and gently placed a long, tender kiss on her fingers.

"I…" Edith began, but again they were interrupted, this time by her parents. They parted their hands quickly.

The Countess entered first. "Sir Anthony! You're awake. That's good news. May we come in?"

"Lady Grantham! What a pleasant surprise!" Anthony lied well. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"We came down to support Edith at the trial, but, thanks to you, Sir Anthony, none of us have to go through that now" replied Robert. "We are all very grateful to you."

"It's the least I could do, although I fear Lady Edith and I will have to attend the trial of Miss Price" said Anthony "and that will not be pleasant."

"But Edith is safe because of you" Robert rejoined. His face was lined with tiredness and relief.

"Might I ask a favour of you, Lord Grantham?" asked Anthony.

"...Robert. And of course you may."

"Will you convince your daughter to look after herself as well as she has looked after me these last few hours, and go home for some rest? She won't obey anything I say."

"You always were the stubborn one, weren't you Edith?" said Cora affectionately.

"Anthony…" Edith began.

"I think Sir Anthony has the right to say who is admitted to his hospital room, and who stays, Edith. And personally I think he is right. With some breakfast inside you and a bit of sleep…" said Robert.

"…you'll be able to come back later this afternoon and care for me all the better, looking even more beautiful while doing it" finished Anthony. Robert looked a bit askance at that, but put it down to flattery to get Edith out of his room. But Cora looked more serious, and said nothing.

"Alright! If you insist. I will be back this afternoon, and there's an end to it" said Edith. She squeezed Anthony's hand and smiled.

* * *

_._

They took Edith back to The Savoy Hotel and got her a room near to theirs. Breakfast was still being served to the late risers, and Edith enjoyed every mouthful of it. With hot food inside her, and having slept so little the previous night, it was not long before she was asleep in the warm, soft bed.

Mid-afternoon she appeared again having bathed, dressed her hair, and changed clothes.

"I am happy to admit that you were all right and I do feel so very much better for that" she said to Cora. Robert was out seeing business associates.

"And you look so much better too. Sir Anthony will be pleased" Cora smiled her knowing smile, while Edith kept uncharacteristically silent, avoiding her eyes.

"Please tell me, Edith" Cora asked gently.

"To be honest, Mama, I don't know myself. After I saw you and Papa with Sir John, I was so frightened by what he said, that I asked Sir Anthony to explain to me what would happen, if the worst came to the worst. He did, but he also promised that if that happened he would never leave me, he would be with me to the end, even dying at the same moment. He asked me to marry him, there in the prison if it had to be, or at Downton in front of everyone to atone for his sins. His words, not mine."

"Oh Edith!" Cora gasped.

"But since then he…he hasn't really said anything, and I'm so unsure" Edith sighed.

"Well, of course he hasn't said anything, my darling, because he's been wounded and in pain. Also, he's probably feeling a bit unsure himself, whether you really want to try again. And in the hospital I shouldn't think you got much privacy. Give him time. Sir Anthony is a man of honour. That I know. He wouldn't have said those things to you just to make you feel better." Cora turned Edith's head towards her.

"Do you love him?"

"Yes, Mama, I love him so much!"

"Then all will be well. All will be well this time. I will see to it."

* * *

_._

_A few days later_

"I am not letting you get away with it that easily" insisted Anthony.

"Honestly, Anthony, we only really want a new kettle, and maybe a dartboard for quiet periods, though those are pretty few and far between these days" Chaunter assured him.

"You can have those anyway! I want to give you both something you wouldn't be able to give yourselves, Perry!" Anthony continued. "Take advantage of me! Please!"

"I'll talk to Dicky again" laughed Chaunter. "But I take no responsibility for what he'll say!"

"How's the trial looking?"

Chaunter stopped laughing.

"When she confessed and attacked you, I thought it would be a doddle. But now I'm not so sure."

"Why?" asked Anthony.

"She's not plea-bargaining. That makes me nervous. Either she doesn't care that she's going to hang, or she's got an ace up her sleeve. Do you feel up to being cross examined?"

"Yes. The sling will give added weight to my evidence, don't you think?"

"Possibly."

Anthony voiced his worst fears.

"Do you think Lady Edith will be arrested again?"

Chaunter looked visibly uncomfortable.

"I don't think it likely."

Anthony went white. "But not impossible."

"Alas."

* * *

_._

The next few weeks felt very strange to both Anthony and Edith, as if the world was holding its breath. There were so many things held in the balance: Anthony's recovery, the trial…and whether they were engaged or not. Anthony didn't attempt to raise the question while he was still bedridden, for the sake of his pride and to allow Edith the chance to remember what normal life was like. He wanted her to have the time to think whether he might have a place in her normal life or whether their closeness was only born of danger and extremes of emotion.

After a week, Dr Wilkes was happy for Sir Anthony to go home to his London house, but he had to come back to the hospital for examinations once a week for a month. His wounds healed without infection, which was a blessing, but the nerve pain was, as Wilkes had predicted, severe. Anthony tried to bear it as best he could without the morphine. He'd seen wounded men become pitifully reliant on the stuff if they used it too often.

Edith continued to visit him. Cora accompanied her more often than not although Robert returned to Downton. That was a mixed blessing to Anthony. It gave him an excuse not to approach Edith while he was giving her time to make her decision, but the Countess was decidedly in the way when he thought Edith was ready. It had been agony for him to wait even this long for Edith's sake. All he could think about was how wonderful it would be if she did still want him, and how very crushed he would be if she didn't.

So the situation continued until the week of the trial.

* * *

_**Thank you again for all your kind encouragement. It is so much more fun with you.**_


	11. Chapter 11: Trials of Love

_**So, we arrive at the trial.**_

* * *

_._

Robert returned to London for the trial. It did not please him to hear people talking on the platform about the scandal. He got to the Old Bailey with barely a quarter of an hour to spare. He, Cora, and Edith were talking with Anthony in the lobby of the Old Bailey when a familiar voice spoke behind him.

"Strallan, I hope you are not prejudicing the witness."

"I hope you would know me better than that by now, Perry" smiled Anthony without even turning around.

Anthony introduced Chaunter to the elder Crawleys.

"I'm pleased to meet you, my lord, my lady. Lady Edith, how are you bearing up?"

"I'm a bit nervous, Inspector."

"Just keep it simple and stick to what you know to be the truth, my lady. Don't let anyone bully you or lead you on. That goes for you too, Anthony."

Lady Edith was called to the witness stand at that moment. Robert and Cora made their way to the public gallery while Anthony and Perry sat down in the lobby to wait their turn.

* * *

_._

The Prosecuting Counsel was thorough but courteous as he asked Edith to tell how that fateful evening had unfolded for her. But the Defence Counsel, a Mr Kemble, was more belligerent. He doubted she had heard the Town Hall Clock. She replied she was sure, and her recollection was confirmed by the taxi driver who had heard it too. Kemble asked her about Gregson's body in grisly detail, obviously trying to discomfort her. Eventually the judge asked whether any of this was relevant to the Defendant's case. When Kemble did not clarify, the judge asked him to wrap up his questions and dismiss Lady Edith. She joined her parents in the gallery.

Chaunter was next and he was given the third degree. Everything was taken apart to try to find any chink where the details as presented in the case against Miss Price might not be absolutely watertight. When Kemble failed, the judge queried whether this was necessary, and again Kemble would only say that clarifying details was important.

When Anthony was called, Prosecuting Counsel led him through his evidence and previous military intelligence experience carefully and methodically hoping to pre-empt Kemble's tactics. However, they soon discovered that this time Kemble had something else in mind.

"Sir Anthony, are you a police officer?"

"I am a Special Constable."

"When did you become a Special Constable?"

"I was sworn in on the 17th November."

"And you volunteered with the express purpose of investigating this case and proving Lady Edith Crawley's innocence, did you not?"

"With the express purpose of investigating this case, yes" Anthony specified.

"Did you not want Lady Edith to be proven innocent then?"

"I wanted to offer my services to the Police to discover the truth."

"As far as you were concerned, the truth was that Lady Edith was innocent. Is that not so?"

"I did not believe she was guilty, but I wanted to uncover the truth."

"Is it not the case that you wanted to prove Lady Edith innocent…"

Prosecuting Counsel objected to this, and the judge sustained the objection. Kemble continued, but with more venom.

"Is it not the case that you wanted to investigate this case because _you are in love with Lady Edith Crawley_."

Edith gasped. The entire court was hushed. Robert and Cora looked at her, then back at Anthony. This was much worse than they thought it would be. This wasn't about facts any more. This was a personal attack against Anthony and his character, and therefore his evidence. Kemble repeated his question.

"Sir Anthony, are you in love with Lady Edith Crawley?"

Anthony regarded Kemble with his jaw clenched. He swallowed hard.

"I would have preferred that she never knew, or that I might have told her more privately, but…"

He looked up to the gallery at Edith. Holding her gaze but with a quivering voice, he declared "Yes, I am in love with her".

Whispers echoed around the room.

"I put it to you, Sir Anthony, that all of your evidence is fabricated with the purpose of releasing the woman you love from police custody."

"All of my evidence is meticulously researched, double checked by other officers, and documented" Anthony replied his voice once again certain and calm. "None of it is fabricated. When I was sworn into the Metropolitan Police, I told Detective Inspector Chaunter that, should I discover any evidence that pointed to Lady Edith being guilty, that I would pass it onto him immediately and without question. If you are looking for the mechanism by which I ensured there would not be any conflict of interest in my service, it is there."

"So you would have betrayed Lady Edith, the woman you love, if you had found evidence against her?"

"If I had found evidence against her, I would have passed it to Inspector Chaunter because that would be the correct thing to do. It would not have been betraying Lady Edith; it would have been telling the truth."

"Did you find any evidence that suggested that Lady Edith was guilty?"

Anthony paused for a moment. Kemble was setting traps for his tongue wherever he could. Anthony remembered Perry saying 'Stick to what you know to be the truth'.

"Yes. There was the evidence of the police telephonist who received the emergency call. The caller was described as having a calm, well-spoken voice. This pointed directly at Lady Edith because at that point I…we had no other suspects."

Kemble considered this, then seemed to decide to change tack.

"Are you a wealthy man, Sir Anthony?"

"Reasonably so, I suppose."

"What is your annual income, in round figures?"

"Roughly £4,000."

"_Good grief_" muttered Robert "that's more than mine!"

"A policeman's average wage is £75 per year. You are, are you not, in a position where you could make it very much to your colleagues' advantage to lie about what they heard when you confronted Miss Price at Mr Gregson's flat."

"I am very fortunate in my position, financial and otherwise, yes. But I did not attempt to bribe my colleagues, and as anyone at Scotland Yard will tell you, Mr Kemble, they are sea green incorruptible. I have been trying to find a way of showing my appreciation to Inspector Chaunter and Sergeant Dickinson for all their kindnesses and assistance for some time now, and all they will accept is a new kettle."

That won him a few laughs around the Court and in the Jury Box. Chaunter smiled to himself. Kemble was losing.

"When you spoke to Miss Price at Mr Gregson's flat, you asked her about her last conversation with Mr Gregson, I believe."

"I did."

"She confided in you that Mr Gregson had refused her attentions and insulted her?"

"Yes, she did."

"Would it surprise you to know that there was a witness to the conversation that Miss Price conducted with Mr Gregson?"

"Yes it would surprise me because I asked all the reporters and copywriters in _The Sketch_'s office if they had seen anything of that encounter. I was unaware that anyone saw Miss Price talk to Mr Gregson."

Kemble was taken aback momentarily by Anthony's honesty, although it obviously impressed the judge and jury.

"It was seen by one of the runners, that is, one of the boys who take urgent paperwork between the offices. He says that Mr Gregson kissed Miss Price that evening. Given that that was the case, what reason do you think Miss Price would have for cutting his throat only hours later?"

Anthony looked nonplussed for only a moment, but Kemble continued.

"Sir Anthony, I put it to you that it would be more logical to think that Lady Edith had seen her lover kissing Miss Price and it was Lady Edith who took her revenge by murdering him?"

Anthony's eyes shone bright with anger at Kemble. _How dare he? How dare he __**surmise**__ Lady Edith's guilt in this way._ It was time to play the card _he_ had up his sleeve; a card no one knew he had.

"I put it to you, Mr Kemble, that it is not true that Mr Gregson was affectionate towards Miss Price that evening and that someone has bribed the office runner, a rather easier thing to do, I think, than bribing one of Her Majesty's gallant police officers. I put it to you that it would be very unlikely that Gregson had been loving towards Miss Price that evening given that he had, in fact, signed papers before he left the office which gave Miss Price notice of dismissal from her position at _The Sketch_. And yet that is exactly what he did."

Kemble was struck dumb. Conversely Miss Price began shouting incoherently from the dock but with the occasional very clear, telling phrase.

"You're an idiot Anthony Strallan...Stupid, stupid…She'll never love you...He was an ungrateful wretch…blasted men…I should have cut his tongue out as well as his throat…You're all damned…damned devils…"

The Court erupted into chaos. The reporters from the press made a combined run for the door to submit their copy for that day's edition. The judge tried and failed to get order, and so decided to adjourn the Court for an hour. The Prosecuting Counsel hurried up to Anthony to ask him if he had the paperwork to prove Gregson's sacking of Miss Price, and Anthony passed it over to him in a daze. Suddenly, Chaunter was beside him.

"You continued investigating, even after the attack, when you should've been recuperating, and you didn't tell me."

"I'm sorry Perry, but…" Anthony started but everything began to catch up with him, just how close Kemble had been to putting Edith back in the dock. He went to leave the witness box and staggered, shaking.

Chaunter took his arm briefly, then began to lead him out of the court.

"Come on, old man. I think you need a brandy."

Anthony looked up at the gallery but Edith and her parents were gone.

* * *

_._

_**Alright - I'll let you in to a little secret: this is actually much better than it looks. Anthony and Edith are still in charge of the writing, and I find I can deny them nothing...**  
_

_**Fanfiction Appreciation Week on Tumblr is off to a good start. If you want to take part see thymeladykatl dot tumblr dot com/post/41711212485/fanfiction-appreciation-week-revised  
**_


	12. Chapter 12: Hanging on the Telephone

_**Thank you again for all your wonderful PMs, reviews, favourites, and follows. It encourages me to, I hope, better things. I hope you enjoy this. We are now getting towards the Land of Fluff!**_

* * *

_._

The lobby was crawling with reporters and photographers. Chaunter steered Anthony out to the road and hailed a taxi. Further along the pavement Edith, Cora, and Robert were just getting into a cab. Once inside the first taxi that stopped, Chaunter gave instructions to the driver to take them to Scotland Yard, but Anthony intervened.

"May we go to The Savoy Hotel first please, Perry? I need to talk to Edith in private, to explain and perhaps mend some of the damage that had just been done."

On arrival at the Savoy, Anthony and Chaunter asked for Lady Edith at reception only to be told that Lord Grantham's valet had just informed them that his party had left without returning after the hearing. Indeed, Mr Bates was in his lordship's suite now packing up. Anthony lifelessly thanked the receptionist and walked out.

"Anthony, it's not a bad idea to get her back to Yorkshire and away from the Press hounds. Perhaps you should go too."

"I know what it means, Perry. It means Robert has had his phobia of scandal tweaked. It doesn't matter now that I did anything to save her. I have dragged her into the scandal sheets by having to tell the truth on oath; Kemble would have crucified me if I hadn't and then she would have been in danger. I had to do it."

"Yes, you did. And I could see that it took a lot to do it. I think you still need a brandy. By God, if you don't I do!"

"Very well. But let's go back to my house. I don't think I could bear Scotland Yard just at the moment."

* * *

_._

After a few hours, several brandies, and a good deal of discussion with Perry, Anthony was asked by his butler if he would like to see the evening newspapers. Anthony grimaced, saying nothing, but Chaunter replied for him.

"Yes Oakley. Better to know one's enemy!"

The headlines were as lurid as could be expected.

_Passion and Murder among Toffs!_

_Aristocrat turned Holmes to Save Mistress!_

_Dramatic Courtroom Declaration of Love!_

And that was just the broadsheets; the scandal sheets and tabloids were far worse. Despite the headlines, the reports themselves were mostly complimentary of Sir Anthony and of how he had conducted himself. The novelty and fascination seemed to be with the noble self-sacrificing baronet who dared to show his feelings in public in order to save the woman he loved from an undeserved death. Not one suggested any wrongdoing by Anthony in his investigation, nor did any of them deny that Miss Price had condemned herself out of her own mouth. They all assumed that the case would be wrapped up the next day.

"Once Robert sees those, I'll never be admitted to Downton again. And once her _grandmother_ sees them, Edith will never be allowed to visit Locksley either. I'll never see her again, Perry."

"Nonsense, old man. I'm sure Lord Grantham was thinking only of getting Edith away from the hack-pack as quickly as possible. You wait; after it's all died down you'll be invited over and lionised like the hero you are!"

"Crawleys do not _lionise_ anyone but themselves, Perry."

"We'll think of _something_, Anthony. We could get Colonel Gervas to invite her to York, and just coincidentally invite you too."

"Yes…that's a possibility, isn't it?"

Chaunter filled Anthony's glass again.

"Cheer up, Anthony. There's life in us old dogs yet! You keep bloody good cognac, I must say."

After another couple of hours, both Anthony and Chaunter were pretty squiffy. They were onto their third repetition of the Anvil Chorus when Anthony suddenly went silent.

"Wh-what ish it, old boy?" slurred Chaunter.

"My hand" whispered Anthony, abruptly sober.

"What about your hand?"

"I moved it. My right hand; I just moved it."

They stared at each other, then looked down and regarded Anthony's useless hand in its sling as he managed to wiggle the top joints of his middle three fingers, just a little.

* * *

_._

Anthony attended Dr Wilkes' surgery the day after. By then he could move all the fingers on his right hand albeit in a haphazard way.

"Capital! This is quite typical. You'll gradually get the control back. The important thing is to exercise the hand and the arm a little but not too much: that's vital. I've got a book from America which shows the sort of thing I mean. When I find it, I'll let you have it."

"May I return to Yorkshire, Dr Wilkes? I am keen to escape London and to return to the running of my estate" said Anthony, _as well as getting back to Edith_ he thought.

"I would prefer you not to, at least for a week or so, while we monitor your progress." Seeing Anthony's expression of frustration, Wilkes added "This is the most delicate time, Sir Anthony. If you overdo it or don't do enough now, the nerves may be damaged or atrophy and you'll never recover."

* * *

_._

Anthony returned home to find Chaunter waiting for him.

"I've came from the Bailey. They found Miss Price guilty. The Judge sentenced her immediately. She will hang. But Lady Edith is absolutely safe now."

"I'm glad it's over. Poor Miss Price, driven mad by unrequited love." Anthony looked solemn. "As I shall be."

"Nonsense! What did the doctor say?"

"I have to stay here in London for at least another week."

"Anthony, I don't want to point out the obvious but why don't you telephone her?"

"I doubt they'll let me speak to her."

"But it's worth a try. Faint heart never won fair lady!"

Chaunter left, refusing any offers of hospitality – "God, I've still got the headache from your last bout of hospitality!"

Anthony looked at the telephone. "Faint heart…" he murmured to himself, and put the call through. Carson answered.

"Carson, good day to you, Anthony Strallan here. Might I have a word with Lady Edith?"

"I'm afraid Lady Edith is not here at present, Sir Anthony."

"When might be a better time to call?"

"I wouldn't like to say, Sir. She's gone to York with her grandmother. We are not expecting them back until late."

"Would you pass on a message please? Tell her that I have good news from Dr Wilkes. Thank you."

_That went well_ Anthony thought bitterly. _But she might actually be in York with Lady Grantham. It might not be what you think it is._

So instead Anthony wrote a brief but heartfelt letter to Edith, and made sure it caught the post.

* * *

_._

Carson entered the Library at Downton a few days later.

"That was Sir Anthony Strallan on the telephone for Lady Edith, _again_, my lord. Am I to continue telling him that she is not available?"

"Yes Carson. Sooner or later he'll take the hint" Robert sighed. "Just make sure she doesn't hear you answer it, won't you?"

"Yes, my lord. And here is another letter from him."

"Thank you. That'll be all." Robert took the letter and put it in a drawer in his bureau, which he immediately locked. He looked out at the lawns and frowned. He didn't like doing this, but Strallan…well, if Edith and he took up again it would now be bound to hit the newspapers. If they married, their life together would forever after be of interest to the scandal sheets and gossip columnists. They would never be happy. No, this was the only way.

* * *

_._

"Downton Abbey, Carson the butler speaking."

"Good evening Mr Carson. My name is Sergeant Dickinson of the Metropolitan Police. May I speak with Lady Edith Crawley please? Nothing to worry over, just a few little details I have to ask her. Thank you."

While Carson fetched Edith, Dickinson covered the receiver with his hand and whispered to Anthony and Chaunter "He's gone to fetch her."

Immediately, the butterflies in Anthony's stomach got a lot worse.

"Hello Sergeant, what can I do for you?"

"First of all, can you tell me if you are being listened to by anyone?"

"No. Why should I be?"

"It's just that calls to you haven't been getting through since you left London, ladyship."

"Really? But I've been here."

"Anyways, I have someone here who'd like to talk to you." He handed the receiver over to Anthony, and he and Chaunter retired to Anthony's drawing room.

"Lady Edith."

"Anthony!"

"Sshh. Don't say my name. Has Carson been passing on my messages to you?"

"What messages?"

"Has he told you that I've telephoned every day since the day after you left London?"

She took a deep breath.

"No, he hasn't. But I wish I'd known!"

"Have you received any of my letters?"

"No. Have you received mine?"

"No! This is dreadful! Look, I've got news."

"About Miss Price? Yes, I know. It was in the newspapers."

"I'm sorry you had to learn about it that way. Actually, my news is much happier. The operation on my arm seems to have worked. I can move the fingers now, and Dr Wilkes says things will continue to improve as long as I stay here for physiotherapy."

"That's wonderful! I'm so happy!"

"I hoped you would be. But that's why I'm still here. Otherwise, I would have followed you home and I'd be trying to make contact more directly. I need to talk to you Edith. I need to explain about what I said in court."

"I know you had to answer truthfully. That Kemble was a demon, wasn't he?"

"Edith, is there anyone I can write to whom we can trust to pass my letters on to you?"

"Anna. She's Mary's lady's maid. She used to be mine too. I'll speak to her. She married Bates, Papa's valet, the one who was falsely convicted of murder."

"Then she will understand. Alright I've got that: Anna Bates. I'll write to you via her."

"Anthony…"

"Yes?"

"I miss you."

Anthony's heart leapt.

"I miss you too, my dearest sweetheart. Oh I've missed you so much."

"Yes Sergeant, yes very much."

"Carson back again?"

"Yes."

"I'll sign off then."

"Goodnight Sergeant."

"Goodnight. I love you, Edith."

Putting the receiver back, Anthony's mouth was dry. As he entered the drawing room, Dickinson asked "How'd it go?"

"She hasn't received messages or letters."

"Do you want me to go and arrest him?"

Anthony smiled sadly. "Carson or Grantham?"

"Both" grinned Dicky. "I've always wanted to arrest a lord, present company excepted, of course."

"She said…she missed me."

Chaunter rose. "There! What did I tell you? She's…" he winked at Dickinson "…sweet on you, just as I thought. Now get some rest, and concentrate on getting that arm of yours working. Then we'll think of a way of getting around her family."

"Thank you Perry, Dicky. I don't know what I would've done without you."

"Pined away in a most gentlemanly noble fashion. Goodnight Anthony."


	13. Chapter 13: Love Letters

**_A/N: Lady Strallan said something about "I hope they elope". So blame her._**

* * *

**__**_._

Edith was so furious that she didn't really think it through. She burst back into the Dining Room silencing the entire family. She addressed the butler, but watched her father like a hawk.

"Carson! Tell me who told you not to pass on Sir Anthony's telephone messages to me?" When he hesitated, she shouted "Tell me, _right now!_"

"I did, Edith." In comparison to Edith's anger, Robert's voice was quiet, reasonable.

"Why? He's been trying to contact me about details needed for Scotland Yard's files and this has held things up. The Sergeant had to telephone me instead."

"I am sorry for that, Edith, but…"

"But what, Papa? In case the last month has slipped your memory, I owe Sir Anthony my life!"

"And in case it has slipped _your_ memory, Edith, he has also brought this family into public disrepute not once but _twice_!" Robert was showing annoyance. "If you and he were ever to think of…of forming an attachment again, it would be a feeding frenzy for the press. The names of Crawley and Strallan would be sullied forever. And that is why I cannot allow it. Not because I am not grateful to Sir Anthony for assisting you."

In the brief silence that followed, Violet added "It would be like living in Number Ten Downing Street: reporters camped outside permanently. What a ghastly thought!"

"In that case, Granny, I think I will encourage Sir Anthony to take up politics. Then we can kill two birds with one stone!" With that, Edith ran to her bedroom, weeping.

"I think it is mean and small of you!" declared Cora. "Sir Anthony has done more for Edith than both of you put together _in your entire lives_, jilting notwithstanding! And I mean that." And she followed her daughter.

"Well!" exclaimed Violet.

"Well indeed" said Mary "but Mama does have a point."

"Too right" agreed Tom. "Anyway, did you think that Sir Anthony wouldn't find a way of getting a telephone call through? Ha! Next you'll be saying that you've been interfering with their correspondence!"

When Carson coughed and Robert, face like thunder, returned his attention to the soup, Tom and Mary exchanged a very meaningful look, but said nothing.

* * *

_._

"My dearest, may I come in?"

"Yes Mama, but please don't tell me I mustn't see Sir Anthony again, because I…"

"I will not say any such thing, my darling. I told you: this time I will make sure that all comes right. I'm sorry I didn't know your father was trying to stop you talking to Sir Anthony, otherwise I would have said something about it already."

"Oh Mama! All those visits to his town house and he said nothing! And then silence since we returned home. I thought…I was so frightened he didn't…"

Cora put her arm around Edith's shoulders.

"I expect Sir Anthony didn't say anything in London simply because he could see that I was trying to chaperone you. And I was chaperoning you _because_ I was expecting him to propose. I know what he's like, my dear, and he's more old-fashioned than you think. At least, he's more comfortable doing things in the old-fashioned way. This will be the third time you two have tried to get together. Each time he's more uncomfortable than the last, isn't he?"

"Yes" Edith conceded. "And I so want him to feel _more_ comfortable, but Papa's objection will make him more uncomfortable than ever."

"I will work on your father" Cora asserted. "Have you found a way of being able to contact Sir Anthony?"

"I believe so."

"Don't tell me. But by all means tell him we are working on smoothing the path of true love at this end."

Edith hugged her mother, thanking her, despite being torn between doubt, hope, and fear for the future.

* * *

_._

A day later, Anna almost ran into Edith's room immediately after she had knocked.

"A letter! For you, my lady!"

Edith took it, her hands shaking. The envelope was addressed to her in Anthony's neat hand.

"He put it inside a letter to me and then inside another envelope. He says I'm a heroine among maids and I should be spoken of in the same breath as Susanna. What does that mean, my lady?"

Still staring at the envelope, Edith muttered "Susanna is the maid in a Mozart opera. She gets her mistress back together again with her estranged husband.

"Sir Anthony's a very cultured man, my lady, but he's also a nice man, a good man." Edith smiled at her and she left.

Edith didn't know whether to continue just looking at it or to open it. It was so wonderful to have a letter from him again after all this time. Carefully she slit the envelope and withdrew the paper, nervous of its contents.

_My dear Lady Edith,_

_I do hope this letter finds its way to you without incident. More fervently, I hope you can forgive me for what happened in court. It was Kemble's intention to make it look as though I had forged all the evidence that released you, and making me confess my feelings for you publicly like that was a cruel way to achieve this aim. You do know, don't you, that I had to be honest, no matter what the consequences, or Kemble would have accomplished his purpose, and I could never have forgiven myself if that had happened._

_I realise that I have made your position uncomfortable in the extreme, but I believe that the press will lose interest in you and your activities in the near future, or at least whenever the next scandal breaks, and that then you will be able to go on with your life in the way you would like to live it. I also recognise that you may wish to cease any contact with me. After all I have done to make you unhappy this would be not only understandable but to be expected, and I will, of course, bow to your wishes either way. A word from you is all that is needed._

_My arm continues to get stronger – I now have full feeling in the whole limb, although I still cannot control my fingers to my own satisfaction. Time and further treatment will tell if I can regain any further command of them._

_With all my affection,  
I remain yours, always,  
Anthony Strallan_

Edith wept with joy. All that he'd said in the cells that night, all that he'd had to say in court: it was all true! Her doubts of the last few weeks had been just that: her doubts. Edith wept with sorrow. Her darling Anthony was just as prey to those very same doubts. Bearing in mind the silence he'd faced since she had returned to Downton due to her father's interference that was not so odd. Anthony never did have enough confidence in himself and how much power he had to enchant her and inspire her to love him. She sat at her table, and began to write a reply.

_My dearest Sir Anthony,_

_Your letter arrived this morning. Anna is charmed and flattered by your comparison between her and Susanna. I am overjoyed to have some contact with you again, when I had feared you might not want to have anything to do with me after the dreadful business of the trial. I am so very sorry that you had to be put through that embarrassment. I know that it was impossible to avoid if you were to be able to convince the jury of my innocence, and I will forever be in your debt for your courage, your honour, and your intelligence in saving me from a horrible death._

_Mama is decidedly in favour of you; she has declared that she will try to bring Papa round to a more reasonable frame of mind concerning our friendship. I must confess that I challenged him after our telephone conversation, and that has not helped matters. I have been left in no doubt as to his present opposition to our ever seeing each other again. Although his disapproval pains me, it will never prevent me from seeing you, if you would like that. I would find a future without your friendship a very bleak one indeed._

_It is such wonderful news that your arm continues to improve. I hope to see this transformation for myself very soon._

_I remain always yours,  
Edith_

* * *

_._

_My dearest Edith,_

_You will not credit that a grown man can weep just because he receives a letter, but that is what I did when I received yours. We have both been cautious in the extreme, not unsurprisingly as we appear to possess a gift for making trouble for each other and for saying the wrong thing, don't we, even when we are trying our hardest to do what's right for each other. In addition, I have been trying so very hard to do everything 'properly' for want of a better word, and I know you are so very thoughtful of my feelings that you have too. Perhaps a little modern plainness would not go amiss when there are so many emotional pitfalls surrounding us? Purely because of the danger that my letters might be found and read by unsympathetic eyes I must continue to exercise restraint. But there is no reason you should. _

_My sweet Edith, I need to know. It would help so much. Is friendship all you desire of me?_

_Yours, and always yours,  
Anthony_

* * *

_._

_My Dearest Darling Anthony,_

_You asked me to be plain._

_I love you. I have loved you since you first took me for a drive in the summer of 1914. I will never stop loving you. Even when you walked out of Downton Church, and the painful weeks afterward, I loved you. When Michael Gregson was courting me, I could only think of you. Alone in my cell, I cared not for the noose that seemed to be so inescapably my fate. I grieved only because I would not see you again._

_Is that plain enough? I blush for my forwardness, and it would be so much easier if you were here. But I can imagine your beautiful blue eyes looking at me as I say again I love you. Perhaps you would take my hand and kiss it before…_

_There's plainness, and then there's wishful thinking. I will wait to see how that meeting goes in reality._

_I am forever yours,  
Edith_

* * *

_._

_My lovely darling Edith,_

_I will throw caution to the winds this once and hope that the gods smile on us._

_I love you, with all my heart and soul. I too remember that drive before the war, and how you captured my heart without even trying. There are so many other things I wish to tell you, but writing letters has become an unsatisfactory pastime. In my dreams I can tell you all this eloquently; I am not so sure that I shall be so lucid in real life, but it will be so much more than telling you by pen and ink. If you still want to see this through, if you have not been overtaken by good sense, be ready at the French windows to Downton Library with a packed bag at midnight on Thursday evening, and on Friday I will marry you. Given the right circumstances, it appears that even mild-mannered baronets can become desperate men. And I am desperately in love with you, my sweet one._

_Anthony_

* * *

_._

_**Many thanks, as always, to everyone who has reviewed, or is following this little tale, or has paid it the ultimate compliment of saying it is one of their favourites. More soon...**  
_


	14. Chapter 14: Midnight Tryst

_**A/N: The last two days have been rather wonderful - with updates in no less than seven Anthony/Edith stories. I apologise that I couldn't make it eight, but I was too busy reading...thank you again for all your support my shipmates. It's a pleasure to sail with you.**_

* * *

_._

Cora was as good as her word, but try as she might to convince Robert that the gutter press wouldn't always be at Edith's and Anthony's heels, Robert was implacable.

"You always know best, Robert, don't you?"

"Not always, and I acknowledge that. But in this, yes, I believe I am right."

"Well, you're not!"

She marched quickly out of their room in time to see Anna rush into Edith's room with an envelope.

"Another one, my lady!"

The door shut, but Cora could still hear Anna's and Edith's excited voices.

_So that's how they've made contact._

Cora went to Edith's room. She knocked gently, and waited. Eventually the door was opened by Anna.

"Sorry my lady. Lady Edith was…"

Cora came into the room past her.

"I know what Lady Edith was doing. She was putting all her letters from Sir Anthony away so I should not see them. No, please Anna, please stay. This concerns you too."

Edith and Anna looked like naughty children discovered red-handed the day before Christmas with all the opened presents. Cora could see that they feared what she had to say next. She just had to hope she was right.

"Edith; I have tried to open your father's eyes to the error of his opinions regarding Sir Anthony, but it appears he is set on being truly stubborn this time. My suggestion, extreme though it may seem, is that you and Sir Anthony arrange to elope." She paused again, and when she spoke once more a smile was forcing its way around her lips.

"That is, if you haven't already?"

Anna and Edith looked at each other, beginning to smile as well.

"Yes, Mama, we have."

Cora hugged her daughter. "That's my girl! When?"

"Tonight!"

"Then we haven't much time."

_._

Dinner was tense. Robert spoke to Tom about some estate matters. Cora tried to make small talk; Isobel answered, happily oblivious to the underlying anxieties. Edith joined in occasionally while Mary and Matthew talked together. They all went through to the drawing room together.

"How's the refuge going, Isobel?" asked Robert abruptly.

"Very well, thank you Robert. Since the end of the war, there's been more and more demand for our services, alas. We're at breaking point."

"Edith, couldn't you help out? I'm sure Isobel would be very glad of the assistance."

Edith was shocked for a second or two, but gathered herself enough to answer "I hadn't considered it, Papa. But I thought you disapproved…putting myself in the way of the papers and all that."

"You need an outlet of some kind. Something to keep you busy, and I'm sure Isobel will keep you out of harm's way, eh?"

"Of course, Robert."

Edith looked over at her mother.

"Papa, I'm grateful for your concern, please don't think I'm not, but if cousin Isobel can keep me out of harm's way, why do you think that Sir Anthony could not?"

"Oh, Edith, please, not this again! Working at Isobel's charity would only be for a few hours a week. And…and…"

"Sorry Papa, I don't see the difference! Sir Anthony saved me from the noose! Isn't that keeping me out of harm's way?!"

"I refuse to speak to you when you can't see that I'm doing this for your own good."

"Like you did when you interfered between them before?" asked Cora, pointedly.

"Or when you tried to stop Sybil marrying me?" said Tom, rather more gently.

"I have made mistakes in the past, but having my family gang up on me in this way…"

"We only do it when you are wrong and refuse to listen to reason, Papa" said Mary. "Normal people don't get to this stage, because they discuss things and hear the other point of view."

"So now you're against me too?" Mary's disloyalty stung.

"No, Papa, but please see that we are where we are. The press will never leave us or Sir Anthony alone, at least for a long while. Yes, they'll get bored until the next time we have a wedding or a funeral, but that interest is _always_ going to be there now, at least for our generation. Surely we shouldn't be stopping Edith and Anthony finding happiness because of something we can do nothing about?"

Robert was silent. Edith gave her sister a look of gratitude, then approached him gingerly.

"You can't wrap me up in cotton wool forever Papa. And I wouldn't want you to."

"That may well be true" Robert said quietly, "but still I wish it were within my power to offer it to you." With that he went up to bed without another word.

_._

It was about half past eleven when Cora finally said her goodbyes to Edith wishing her all the joy in the world. She left Edith's bedroom and bolstering her courage went to her own. Robert was still reading.

"I suppose you think I'm being a tyrant."

"I wouldn't call you a tyrant, Robert. But you are being over protective."

"Look at the mess Edith got herself into in London! And you say I'm being over protective? I would say that I gave her too much freedom and she almost got herself hanged because of it."

"She was framed, Robert. You know that. It could have happened to anyone."

"I suppose so."

"But I don't think just anyone would have had Sir Anthony working behind the scenes like that to release her. If he had thought only of his family name and his reputation, he wouldn't have gone to London nor done any of that, and we would have only one daughter left."

Robert turned his head away from her.

"He went away to war when I couldn't. He saved Edith when I couldn't. Even his income is greater than mine. He challenges me on every side."

"Robert: you are an earl, he is a baronet. You have a much larger house and estate. You had three beautiful daughters. He lost his first wife and son within hours of each other. I suspect he is more jealous of you than you ever can be of him."

She took his hand and kissed it.

"You like him though, don't you?"

"Yes, I do like him. That's the sad thing. I've always liked him. I suppose I'm not really comfortable having a son-in-law who's almost my own age."

"You'll get used to it. Think of it as having someone on your side against Matthew and Tom."

Robert even smiled at that.

"Edith loves him. I don't think she'll ever love anyone else. And he adores her, with a self-sacrificing passion. They've been through so much Robert. Can you really not find it in your heart to give them your blessing?"

"I still think she can find someone…"

Cora finally lost her temper.

"What? Younger? Not wounded in the war? Yes, possibly. But no one better, Robert. _No one!_ He told her that if she had had to hang, he would have killed himself at the same moment so that she should not die alone!"

"Oh, melodramatic nonsense!"

"It is true, and he meant it, Robert…_he meant it!_ He couldn't bear to lose her a third time, and he would've chosen to do it in a way that gave her comfort."

Robert stared at her. When he did speak his voice was small.

"I didn't know." She put her hands on his neck.

"You looked, but could not see."

"As always, my darling Cora, it took you to open my eyes. It will give me the greatest pleasure to give them my blessing…first thing in the morning. And it will be only because of you."

"Could you give them your blessing right now, please?"

"Let Edith sleep, dear."

"Oh, she's not sleeping, Robert."

"What?"

_._

The Library was dark except for the moonlight, and empty except for Anna and Edith.

"You will come back and see us, my lady?"

"Of course Anna, I'm not going away forever! When I get back I'll only be a few miles away at Locksley. I'll write to you and tell you where we go. Oh, it's so exciting: I don't even know where he's going to take me. It could be Gretna or France or America for all I know!"

"I know he'll look after you, but be careful won't you?"

"Yes Anna. We both will."

The long case clock by Robert's desk began to strike midnight, and punctual as ever, Anthony knocked gently on the window. Edith opened it for him and he entered. He stood still just looking at her for a long moment, then caught her round the waist with both his arms and kissed her more passionately than she had thought possible for Sir Anthony Strallan, Bart. When he eventually released her she hugged him close.

"I knew you'd come, but…"

"But you couldn't help feeling that I might not" Anthony finished for her.

"Forgive me."

"No need. It is my fault, and my fault alone that you had cause to doubt. But as you see: I am here. Do you have a bag?"

"All packed Sir Anthony" answered Anna, bringing the carpet bag nearer to the window.

Anthony visibly started, and then relaxed as he realised who Anna was.

"Anna, I presume." He took the bag from her, then took her hand and kissed it. "Thank you, from the bottom of my heart for all your help."

"You're very welcome, Sir."

"Are you coming with us?"

"No; Anna is married to Mr Bates, Papa's valet. She can't come. I'm not bringing a maid."

"We'll just have to cope alone. I'm afraid I am bringing Jones, my valet. I still can't quite do everything myself. But I can hold you."

"I noticed." Edith's voice was equal parts delight in his recovery, and shuddering passion and embarrassment remembering their last kiss.

"We should get going, my darling, if we are going to make the border by dawn."

"Gretna?" Edith couldn't stop her excitement rising again.

"Yes Gretna" Anthony confirmed, smiling ear to ear in response to her joy.

There was a chink of light from under the door, and the sound of footsteps hurrying downstairs. Anna was shooing Edith and Anthony out of the French windows when Robert threw the door open and turned on all the lights.

Assuming that Robert would be expecting a burglar and therefore would be armed, Anthony dropped the bag and stepped in front of Edith to protect her, holding her behind him with both arms.

"Stop! Edith! Please don't go!"


	15. Chapter 15: Amor Vincit Omnia

_**A/N: I must apologise to everyone who was hoping Sir Anthony and Lady Edith would elope. Perhaps in another story. I hope you still like this.  
**_

* * *

_._

"Stop! Edith! Please don't go!"

Robert looked at Anthony, standing protectively in front of his fiancée, head held high and one foot a little in front of the other. There was something not quite right about him but he couldn't put his finger on what it was at the moment. He looked past Anthony to Edith, her hands placed lovingly on Anthony's back. Robert's sudden appearance had shocked them motionless. The Earl took a few steps towards them and they saw that Cora was with him.

"Edith, my darling…Sir Anthony…your father wishes to say something to you, to you both," Cora said encouragingly. Robert seemed totally lost for words.

"Edith, my dear…please?"

By now Anthony was sure Robert was unarmed, so he brought Edith out from behind him, deliberately using his right hand. Once she was by his side, he held himself very upright, placing his right hand on her shoulder and giving her his left hand to hold. Edith subtly leaned in to him and regarded her father confidently. Cora was overwhelmed by how dignified and…_good_ they looked together.

Robert continued.

"Thank you. Thank you for pausing. I won't keep you long. May I have a word before you go?" He took another tentative step towards them.

"Anthony…Edith…I am terribly sorry and ashamed that I have been trying to stand between you…once again. I can now see that I've been overprotective and paternalistic. I feared that you both would live your lives as fodder to the gossipmongers. I still fear it but I realise that trying to keep you apart was not the way to face the problem, and that no matter what I do, you will find a way to be together. You _deserve_ to be together. I hope that, one day, you will be able to forgive me. Whatever you decide to do now, this moment, please allow me to give you my blessing to marry."

Edith couldn't speak. She knew her father had sudden changes of heart but this was so unexpectedly welcome. She looked up at Anthony who still held her. He was looking at her with a quiet, more relaxed smile playing over his lips. He nodded at her slowly, deliberately, and encouragingly.

He whispered "Up to you, my dear."

There was some excitement behind Robert and Cora as Mary, Matthew, and Tom appeared in various states of undress and panic.

"What's happening?"

"Shh! Edith and Anthony were eloping…" Cora began.

"What!?"

"…and your father's talking to them. He's come round."

"At last!"

Edith, still gazing into Anthony's eyes, appeared to make a decision. She said a few words into his ear, and his expression softened further.

"If that is what you want, my love, it would make me very happy."

They turned to the assembled family as Edith spoke, holding Anthony with one hand, holding out the other to Robert.

"It will not be easy, Papa, to face the press, but I believe we can manage them and bring them round to see things our way, especially if we do so altogether. Anthony and I are willing to call off our elopement and marry in Downton Church as previously planned, if we have your support, and the support of _all_ the family."

"I will speak to your grandmother, Edith" Robert assured her, understanding her concerns. Edith continued.

"I suggest that we invite, with very carefully phrased letters, the correspondents from all the newspapers to the reception and to see us leave the church. Hopefully, that way the published story will be less about what happened in London, and more "_Happy Ending to Baronet's Tragic Love Story_", "_Earl's Daughter Finally Gets Fairy Tale Wedding She Deserves_" and that kind of thing. That wouldn't be so bad, would it, Papa?"

"My God, I think that would work." Robert looked at Edith with more than pride then.

"Of course it'll work" said Anthony. "Edith understands newspapers. She knows what she's talking about." Her eyes met his and she knew that she had, and always would have, his admiration and respect. Suddenly it didn't matter in the slightest if her father or her grandmother or sister didn't appreciate her, and a lifetime of resentment and tears fell away at her feet as easily as if Anthony were brushing fluff from her shoulder.

"So you won't be needing this" asked Anna with the carpet bag.

"No, thank you Anna" smiled Edith, releasing Anthony so she could give her a hug. All at once, everyone wanted to hug Edith and shake hands with Anthony.

"Your arm?" asked Matthew.

"The operation worked! I'm as surprised as you, and things will never go back to normal, but I keep doing the exercises and it has improved.

"That's it: I knew there was something different about you, but in my panic to talk to Edith I couldn't think what it was!" Robert almost shouted.

Anthony and Edith exchanged a glance that spoke volumes to each other about Robert being oblivious to the obvious.

* * *

_._

After several large glasses of Champagne, the family retired once more to bed and Anthony returned to Locksley, but not before he'd had a quiet word with Edith.

"When he sees me back so soon, Oakley will think you've turned me down."

"Poor Mr Oakley; I don't know how he copes with us."

"I dread to think how he will cope once we are married…And I thought that tomorrow night…"

Edith became suddenly worried.

"You would have preferred to elope. I'm sorry."

"No, it isn't that. I'm actually very pleased that we're going to be married here. It's just…well…"

"We have to wait a bit longer?" Edith hazarded.

"Ungentlemanly as it makes me sound…yes. We've waited so long to be…lovers."

"Eight years. Unladylike as it makes me sound…I…don't relish the idea of waiting either" Edith blushed.

"Oh my darling!" Anthony wrapped his arms around her ribs and kissed her with all his strength. When he finally released her, his breathing was uneven and strained.

"I must go. We've only just convinced your father to approve of us. We don't want him horsewhipping me to death for ruining you tonight! I'll see you in the morning."

He pressed another chaste kiss to her lips, touched her forehead with his and quietly murmured "Touch her soft lips and part".

Without thinking Edith replied "Henry V" and kissed him back.

"Farewell, hostess" Anthony returned, brushed his lips lightly along hers, reluctantly stopped himself from going any further, kissed her hand, and left.

* * *

_._

The happy couple and the family agreed that it would be best to wait until a month after Miss Price's execution before announcing the engagement. Any sooner and it would look heartless, any later and Anthony and Edith politely, but firmly, objected. The previous wedding guest list was found, and the editors and correspondents from a variety of newspapers added, including _The Sketch_. A somewhat surprised Mr Travis was contacted, and a date set for ten weeks later in the spring.

* * *

_._

"It isn't that, Mama, it's just that…"

"Yes, it is, Mary. But you wouldn't really have wanted this for your wedding, would you?" Cora said with tenderness.

"I suppose not" admitted Mary, who was still a tiny bit jealous that there were at least ten cameramen and around twice that number of reporters clustered outside Downton Church waiting for the bride and groom, and that was thirty newspapermen more than had attended her wedding. The two of them left Robert and Edith outside and went to take their seats in the church. Anthony sat on the first pew on the right hand side, looking, if anything, even more nervous than the first time he had been there. Mary stepped over to him, and placed her hand on his shoulder. He looked up and started a bit when he saw it was her. Mary lowered her voice.

"_Amor vincit omnia_, Anthony." She smiled at him without a trace of unkindness.

"Thank you" he nodded at her as she went back to the bride's side of the church.

"What was that?" asked Chaunter, Anthony's best man.

"Latin. Virgil. It means 'Love Conquers All'."

"Why couldn't she just say so without putting it in some poncy language?"

That made Anthony chuckle and relax a little for a second before he turned serious once more.

"Don't let me do anything foolish, will you, Perry?"

"Like getting married into the Crawley tribe? Can't rescue you from that, old boy. You're not getting away from it again!"

Anthony breathed a shuddering sigh, his nervousness apparent.

"It'll all go fine, Anthony. Don't worry." But Anthony began to gabble.

"She might abandon me. I wouldn't blame her. She…"

The organist began Clarke's Prince of Denmark's March and everyone stood up. Anthony took his place at the altar rail, not looking around although he wanted to. It just wasn't done. Perry put a hand on his arm and showed Anthony that he had the two rings, nodding at him.

"_Courage mon brave!_" whispered Perry.

"Now who's speaking some poncy language?" Anthony whispered back.

Edith arrived at Anthony's side. She looked even more beautiful than last time. The Grantham tiara was on her head and a shapely gown of ivory and cream silk demurely covered her but also hugged her figure in all the right places, prompting all sorts of immodest thoughts to rush through Anthony's mind.

_God, how did it come to this? How did I get so lucky?_

Edith sought his eyes and having made contact, held them before whispering clearly "I love you, Sir Anthony. I choose…you."

Anthony swallowed hard before he was able to respond. "I love you, my sweet one, with all that I am. I bind my soul to yours."

They turned to Mr Travis and he, with a nervous look in Anthony's direction, began.

* * *

_._

_**I am woefully behind with thanking all my kind and wonderful reviewers. But I will get round to it. Please take this as a little something on account...THANK YOU ALL!**  
_


	16. Chapter 16: Scenes from a marriage

"…and so, my lords, ladies, and gentlemen, please raise your glasses to Sir Anthony and Lady Strallan."

Robert finished his speech and the assembled guests echoed his toast. There were murmurs of approval around Downton's hall.

Sir Anthony rose to give the groom's speech.

"Lady Strallan has waited far too long for this day. Many people owe her a lifetime of apologies for that, but no one more than me."

Robert, Violet, and Mary lowered their eyes briefly.

"She and I have arrived today at a place that we should have reached eight years ago. In that time we have both suffered enough for several lifetimes, but I believe I have also come to appreciate Lady Strallan far more deeply than I ever could have dreamt. We have both undergone terrible tests of our love and fortitude, tests which I know I could not have endured without her. She is the Andromeda to my Perseus, the Pamina to my Tamino. Without her I am nothing. I will spend every moment of the rest of my life thanking her for this day and the honour and trust she has paid me in making me her husband, beginning with this toast. Please join me in raising a glass to Lady Strallan."

Edith watched Anthony drink to her, his sentiments repeated by all present. As he sat by her side once again they noticed the tears in each other's eyes. Under the table, Edith reached out and squeezed her husband's hand, and the tears turned to smiles.

Finally, Perry Chaunter rose to give his speech.

"Sir Anthony Strallan is a man of many, and sometimes hidden, talents. He is brave, serving for four years in France during the last conflict. During that time, among many acts of valour, he saved the life of my son-in-law who was grievously wounded and left for dead in No Man's Land at Ypres. Sir Anthony carried him back to a field hospital. For that alone I owe him my gratitude."

Many people looked at Anthony with new respect at that.

"Sir Anthony's intelligence is one of the finest I have ever encountered. I know that none of us here know what he did for his country in Military Intelligence, because I know that he will not have spoken of it to a living soul who was not properly authorised. He is that kind of man. But in saving the life of Lady Edith Crawley, now Lady Strallan, I tell the truth when I say I have never seen the like in twenty five years in the Force. Sir Anthony, may I remind you that you are still a serving officer of the Metropolitan Police and I daresay I will exercise my right to recall you to particularly difficult cases."

Laughter from the guests made Anthony blush.

"You would've made a very fine addition to the Criminal Investigation Department if you did not have responsibilities here. Scotland Yard's loss is Yorkshire's gain."

There was a rather drunken "Hear, hear" from Sergeant Dickinson at the back of the room, followed by a few giggles.

"Other facets of Sir Anthony's character are too well known to dwell upon now: he is modest to a fault, firm and generous in friendship, and always willing to learn. New skills come relatively easily to him, but making tea is his forte!"

Puzzled looks were exchanged, except for Dickinson who couldn't stop laughing, and Anthony himself, who smiled in embarrassment.

"So I give you the Groom: Geoffrey Chaucer might have been talking of Sir Anthony Strallan when he said:

'A knight there was, and he a worthy man,  
Who, from the moment that he first began  
To ride about the world, loved chivalry,  
Truth, honour, freedom and all courtesy.  
Full worthy was he in his liege-lord's war...  
And honoured everywhere for worthiness...  
He was a very, perfect gentle knight.'

My lords, ladies, and gentlemen, I give you Sir Anthony and Lady Strallan."

There were some very loud cheers (none more so than from somewhere near the back) and lots of applause. The Dowager leaned to Robert and whispered "I'm not sure I would quote Chaucer when describing Anthony."

Robert finally lost patience with her. "Don't be a Wife of Bath, mother!"

Violet looked mortified. "I was only going to say I would have thought it more appropriate to call them…oh I don't know…Beatrice and Benedick, perhaps."

"Sorry." Robert looked ashamed. "But they don't argue so that wouldn't do either, don't you think?"

"All married couples argue, Robert. They may not yet, but they will. They're too much in love not to."

"At least you acknowledge that they are in love, mother" added Cora. "That's an improvement we are all grateful for."

Violet harrumphed and returned to her Champagne.

* * *

_._

"I pity Carson trying to send Dicky and Perry home" said Edith as she got into the car to go to Locksley after the reception.

"Irresistible force meets immovable object!" muttered Anthony as he joined her. "They _were_ rather squiffy, weren't they?"

"I think Dicky is intending to drink Papa's cellar dry, and I wouldn't put it past him either."

"I'm sure they'll all have some entertaining stories to tell us when we get back" Anthony agreed. "But in the meantime, let us concentrate on our own problems."

"Like what?"

"Are you hungry?"

"After all Mrs Patmore's glorious food at the wedding breakfast? And all that Champagne?" Edith jeered incredulously. "I've married a glutton."

"Not at all. I was making sure my wife's needs were…satisfied."

"I'm afraid I cannot confirm that they have been…yet. But it isn't food I'm hungry for." She looked at him with an undeniable purple mischief in her eyes.

Anthony took a deep breath. He was still quite awkward when flirting with Edith, despite the practice they'd managed in the previous weeks, and tonight…well, the stakes were so much higher than ever before. Edith was much more accomplished at getting him to lose his composure than the other way around. He'd put it down to the age gap, and decided to enjoy her provocations.

However, when Locksley came into view, Anthony actually felt nervous. He hadn't felt nervous returning to his home for something like thirty five years, not since he'd smuggled a pet rabbit into his rooms at Harrow. Of course it had been discovered and his father informed. Sir Jonathan thought the whole incident hilarious and Lady Elizabeth had welcomed the new pet into Locksley with an inside hutch that stood in one corner of Anthony's bedroom. But he hadn't known that his parents would be so understanding when he'd returned in the carriage at the end of the term, his bunny cuddled close in case they tried to take her away from him.

"Penny for them?" Edith whispered somewhere near his shoulder.

"I was remembering an incident from my childhood…the last time I approached Locksley with trepidation…no, with terror!"

Edith looked at him with sudden concern. "Are you terrified? What do you have to be terrified of?"

"That I won't live up to your expectations, my darling, either tonight or in the days and years to come."

"Don't be silly. Of course you will."

"That remains to be seen." He looked away.

* * *

_._

"How was the honeymoon?" asked Hugh Gervas.

He, Anthony, and the other gentlemen guests were sitting in Locksley's dining room enjoying Anthony's excellent brandy, and the fact that the women weren't there to spoil their discussion.

"It was delightful. We went to Italy: Rome, Florence, Mantua, Venice, Bologna, Verona…all wonderful places. The cuisine is second to none. And the art and music and architecture…"

But his friends were less interested in the culture and more interested in Anthony's new wife.

"How is Edith finding married life?" asked Jeremy Hertley-Jones.

"I think it agrees with her. She's taken to ordering Mrs Rich and Oakley around (in the nicest possible way) as though she's done it all her life. And…"

Hugh lost patience with his old friend's gentlemanly banter.

"Anthony! How are your conjugal relations?!" Anthony looked as though Hugh had slapped him across the face.

"Well, if you must know…"

Hugh grinned at the others around the table. They were all old friends, from school or university, or men who'd been neighbours for a lifetime. There was no need for shyness here.

"Yes, I think we must!"

Anthony sighed an embarrassed little sigh, and then couldn't help smiling.

"She's a goddess! I had no idea it could be as good as it is with her. She…doesn't just think of England. She enjoys it, takes part, initiates it sometimes…teases me…taunts me. I am more in love now than I was even when I married her."

"And she's half your age, you bloody jammy beggar!"

"You're just jealous!" Anthony declared with mock bragging.

"Too ruddy right!"

"You better be careful of her, we'll all want to steal her away from you!"

"I have absolute confidence in my wife and her faithfulness. You'll have to find your own young wives elsewhere. Speaking of which, shall we join the ones we've got just at the moment?"

* * *

_._

Anthony was ignorant of a similar conversation that had been taking place in the drawing room.

"Locksley is a lovely house, Edith. Are you enjoying it?" Claudia Gervas' smile was not entirely innocent.

"I am very lucky, I know" agreed Edith. "There's a certain amount of work to be done on the upper floors that Anthony had been putting off in favour of more investment in the estate, but now I'm here we're going ahead with refurbishing the guest bedrooms."

"How's the _master_ bedroom?" asked Genevieve Hertley-Jones, with a conspiratorial glance at Claudia.

"Oh I don't want to change that. It's Anthony's sanctum."

"Really? Are you not admitted?"

Edith was becoming more uncomfortable by the minute.

"Well, yes, of course…"

"How is it, dear?" Claudia got to the point. "Do you want to ask your older, busybody friends anything? Is he living up to your expectations…in bed?"

"Anthony? He's…" Edith's face took on a faraway look even as she blushed scarlet. "He's magnificent. He's very tender and loving. But he's also…"

"A Romeo?"

"No…not so tragic or naïve."

"A Mr Darcy?"

"No…not as arrogant…more a Mr Bingley: kind, gentle, considerate…and very, very passionate!" she ended with a breathless laugh, soon shared by all the ladies.

"What's all this hilarity?" asked Anthony as he and the other men entered.

"We were discussing the refurbishment of your bedchambers, Sir Anthony" Claudia said, trying to keep a straight face.

* * *

_._

"Our first dinner party as a married couple. Did you think it went well? Did I shame you?" asked Edith. They were in the Library later, sharing a nightcap.

"My dear, I think it was one of the best I've ever attended anywhere. You are a perfect hostess, you know. Without fussing too much you make sure everyone feels welcome. You are very good at putting my ancient friends at their ease. No, it's a gift, truly!" He added trying to get her to accept the compliment.

"Perhaps I'll get better with practice. But it was lovely…it felt lovely; you and I...the host and hostess."

"I will never get used to being your husband; it's too wonderful to be true."

"I'm a very lucky woman, and I will never forget it. I should be in my grave with a broken neck if it weren't for you."

That sobered him. He looked at her with so much love and tenderness and concern that she began to apologise.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

He gently put a finger on her lips to quieten her, then followed it by pressing his lips there softly.

"In a strange way I am glad we had to go through that."

"Anthony?!"

"Only because it means that, when my self-doubt raises its ugly head, I can say to myself 'I saved her' and that helps me convince myself that I deserve a wife as young, and as lovely, accomplished, and arousing as you."

"But what did I do to deserve you?"

"Where do I begin?" He kissed her again, slowly at first but building to a breathless, passionate embrace.

"Oh God, Anthony I love you. Take me; make me yours forever."

Taking his wife in both his arms, he swiftly picked her up and carried her upstairs, where they spent the next few hours making it so.

* * *

_**Thank you so much for all your support and the wonderful reviews. I would very much like to thank Eleanorc for the bunny-rabbit idea (see **_**The Scholar and the Scribe**_**), and Loveedith for Sir Anthony's parents, Sir Jonathan and Lady Elizabeth (see **_**The Tangled Web of Life**_**).  
**_

_**Sir Anthony and Lady Edith will return in a story called**_** After the Ball is over _at a Fanfiction website near you very soon._**


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